Chromaticity
by moirariordan
Summary: [Charmed] There's a new Source in town, and she's set her sights on Wyatt. With the rest of his family MIA, Chris must not only save his brother and the world, but somehow refrain from sleeping with Wyatt's girlfriend. Again. [Chris.Bianca]
1. I Hope He Brought You Roses

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**I Hope He Brought You Roses**

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**i. Alleyway**

"Fuck!"

The expletive burst from Chris unwillingly in a hard grunt of breath, the unpleasant and sometimes painful result of being thrown into a wall.

"Not so cocky now, Charmed son?" The demon, a broad-shouldered, bald, nasty looking man in his human form, was even nastier in his natural form, his skin mottled black and green with bright red scars burned into his skin into some kind of ritual design.

In fact, that design was the reason that this whole thing started in the first place. It was put into place by a demonic high priestess by the name of Klea, a Source hopeful who was currently gathering forces to organize the Underworld. Chris had been tracking her for months, though when she caught on that she was in danger, she immediately started throwing minions at Chris, hence the ugly, nasty upper-level with a bonus power boost, courtesy of the creepy scars from Klea.

Chris pulled himself up roughly, rolling his eyes at the attempt at banter. Checking his back pocket, he heaved a sigh of relief, finding that the bottle that held the vanquishing potion was still intact. "I don't believe I ever described myself as 'cocky,' exactly," he said, moving forward, back towards the demon. "I prefer 'self assured,' myself."

The demon sneered and conjured an energy ball, throwing towards Chris. He ducked out of the way, quickly countering with a blast of telekinesis, hitting the demon in the stomach and pushing him backwards several paces.

Chris moved forward again, needing to be closer in order to throw the potion. "You know, I expected more from a former member of The Brotherhood," he said, going for distraction. "How disappointed Raynor would be."

His name dropping hit home. "What do you know of Raynor?" the demon hissed. "You're not fit to even speak his name, child."

"I know, I know! Don't speak ill of the dead, and all that." Chris shook his head, sighing in mock pity. "I can't help it, you know."

The demon snarled in anger and threw another energy ball. Chris easily dodged it, moving the few feet closer that he needed to throw the potion. He'd taken it out and was about to move to throw it when he heard a voice yell from the back end of the alley. "Chris! Look out!"

Distracted, he turned to look toward the voice for a split second, long enough so that he didn't see the second energy ball until it clipped his shoulder, throwing him back against a dumpster. He sat up quickly, just in time to see the demon shimmer away, and the broken bottle of potion on the ground. "Damn it!" he cursed.

"Chris! What the hell was that?"

Chris turned to look at the intruder, rolling his eyes. "That was _almost_ a demon vanquish, Wyatt."

Wyatt scoffed, jogging down the alley to where Chris was on the ground. "Whatever, little brother. You aren't even supposed to be hunting demons, remember? And look, you got yourself hurt."

Groaning, Chris turned to examine his shoulder, wincing at the open wound. "I wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't distracted me." He pulled himself up, shying away from the hand that Wyatt reached out to help with. "Didn't Mom ever teach you not to yell at the person busy with the spitting creature from hell?"

"No, she taught me to protect my family, which is what I was doing. You aren't supposed to be out doing this, Chris," Wyatt said firmly.

Chris sighed, moving away to the broken bottle on the ground. "Shit. That was my last batch."

"Chris!" Wyatt scowled, annoyed that his brother was ignoring him. "Chris, come on, I'll orb you home. Dad's looking for you."

"Oh, goody," Chris muttered sarcastically. Tuning out Wyatt, he focused on the broken potion. Murmuring the words of a spell under his breath, he watched in satisfaction as the bottle pieced itself back together, the potion returning intact. He grinned and picked it up, putting it safely back in his pocket.

Wyatt was standing there, frowning. "Chris," he started, but was cut off.

"I thought that might've been an Elder thing, but no, it's just a Wyatt thing, huh?" Chris shook his head. "The whole disapproving act is very tired."

"Gimme a break, Chris." Wyatt turned away in disgust. "Could you be anymore selfish? You know that Aunt Paige and Aunt Phoebe have been upset ever since we heard about Belthazor. And with Dad the way he is, I'm trying to keep everything running smoothly at home, and it really doesn't help with you making me run all over town, keeping your ass outta trouble."

Chris turned around, his temper close to snapping. "Keeping me out of trouble? Wyatt, do you know who that demon was? That was a Brotherhood, upper-level, idiot! And now, he's gonna go straight down to the Underworld and tell them exactly who I am and what I want. By my point of view, that's putting me in more trouble, _brother_," he snapped, his voice tinged with scorn. "And please, you give me a break. Acting like you're the fucking golden son, keeping the peace at home. You're hardly ever there."

"Bullshit." Wyatt fumed. "I'm there--"

"When?" Chris stepped up, challenging. "When there aren't any good parties. When you get bored with your girlfriend. When you need money." He stepped back, shaking his head. "Real noble, right."

"Oh, like I see you just itching to help Dad with Magic School."

"Help Dad?" Chris laughed bitterly. "Right, I see that happening."

"Chris..." Wyatt sighed, trailing off. "Whatever. Let's go."

He took Chris's uninjured shoulder, but Chris shook him off. "I can orb myself, thank you."

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said again, orbing out quickly.

Chris scoffed. "Whatever," he mocked. Sighing, he took a minute to calm down, leaning against the brick alley wall with one hand, holding his injury with the other. Taking deep, calming breaths, he settled his emotions, calling on his training in meditation to blank out his mind.

After a few minutes, he straightened, feeling calmer. Taking one last look around the alleyway, he shook his head. "Damn it," he cursed again for good measure, the words echoing in the sudden brightness of his orbs.

Meanwhile, a pair of floating red eyes in the corner narrowed in malice, then blinked out of existence.

**ii. Jacqui's House**

"I am Jane and I love to ride elephants!"

Bianca Perry winced, hunching lower in her chair as her friend Jacqui Smyth proceeded to dance around the room, singing at the top of her lungs.

"Oy oye oy oye oy oye yay..."

Rolling her eyes, Bianca grabbed Jacqui's arm on her next pass through and pulled her down to sit on the floor. Glaring, she kept a firm grip on her arm. "Sing anymore of that fucking song and I'll kill you."

Jacqui blinked a few times owlishly. "What?"

Huffing, Bianca tore the headphones off her friend's ears. "I said, stop singing!"

"Oh." Jacqui rolled her eyes and clicked the CD player off, the tinny noise of the song ending. "You could've just said so."

"I did. Several times, in fact. But it seemed you were too busy getting in touch with your inner six-year-old to hear me."

Jacqui smiled innocently. "I happen to think that Aqua's music is very mature, thank you very much."

"You were prancing around the room singing about 'funky monkeys,' Jacqui."

"See? Concern for endangered wildlife. Very mature."

Opening her mouth slightly, she struggled for words momentarily before shaking it off and changing the subject. "What do you think of this dress?" She grabbed a pink mini from the closet, holding it out in front of her. "Too bubblegum?"

"What, for my party tomorrow night?" Bianca nodded. "Nah, pink's a bad party color. Try that dark red one you got in LA. Besides, Wyatt loves red."

Bianca frowned. "How do you know that? I didn't know that."

Jacqui laughed weakly and shrugged. "Please, all guys love red. It's like, a sex color, or something."

Bianca snorted, remembering some of the more kinkier rites and rituals that her clan had practiced. Red had been a prominent color. "I bet." She sighed, pulling out the dress, her disposition slowly souring. It wasn't often that she thought about her past, but when she did, it always managed to ruin whatever mood she had going.

Though technically a witch, Bianca also had inherited demonic powers, passed down her family line from her ancestors in the early American Northeast. It was a common misconception among the magical community that the families and friends of the women killed in the Salem Witch Trials had banded together and formed a dark magic coven, performing blood rituals and calling for demonic powers in order to bestow revenge on the mortals who persecuted the "witches." In actuality, the story was a bit more boring. The demonic powers came from actual demon blood, an upper level demon who married a Perry witch in the early eighteenth century. The rest was propaganda and rumors; though her family didn't do much to dissuade them.

Bianca took pride in her mixed heritage. She saved innocents when she could, using a mixture of the two methods. She wasn't completely good, but she wasn't completely evil, either, and it worked for her. She could bravely admit to herself that she was happy where she was, half demon, half witch. Now if she could only admit that to Wyatt.

And therein lied the major problem between her and her not-quite-serious-but-getting-there boyfriend, Wyatt Halliwell. It had never been a problem before, but lately with all the time they'd been spending together, Bianca had grown more and more uncomfortable with the one-sided parts of their relationship.

Bianca knew all about the Charmed Ones, anyone with a brain and powers did. When she was little, they were like the magical version of the boogey man to her—_finish your training exercises, Bianca, or the Charmed Ones will vanquish you. Nice parenting, Ma._ From the time she was six, she could recite the names and powers of each of the sisters, plus their respective husbands, whitelighters and children. It was a given for any child being raised in a demonic home. Know thy enemy.

Bianca, on the other hand, held no such fame, and so Wyatt had no such instant recognition when he'd met her. And now here she was, three years later, now _dating_ him, and he still had no idea that she even knew about magic, let alone threw fireballs and conjured athames out of thin air.

She didn't really know why she never told him. Merlin knows she'd tried, had even gotten half way there, but something had always gotten in the way. The words stuck in her throat. Things with Wyatt were always easy, comfortable. She knew bringing real life into the picture would tense things up, and she wasn't ready for that.

Actually, thinking about it, the only reason that Wyatt hadn't seen through all her flimsy excuses was that he was probably so thankful that she seemingly never saw through his. But really, it wasn't like Wyatt was the type of guy who would just guess something like that. Not like Chris.

Bianca took a step back from the closet, rolling her eyes slightly. She cast a glance to Jacqui, who was bouncing around to her iPod again. She turned away from the nauseatingly overflowing closet and sank back into her seat, sighing at the thought of Chris. While Wyatt Halliwell was an easy puzzle to solve, his dark-haired, acerbic brother was still a mystery, something that had always slightly annoyed, and if she wanted to admit it, intrigued Bianca.

For instance, Chris had picked up who and what she was at their very first meeting, while Wyatt was still in the dark after almost a year-long relationship.

**iii. The Manor**

"_Bianca, this is my brother, Chris. Don't believe anything he says about me." Wyatt winked cheesily, and she smiled a little in return. _

_Chris was lanky, brunette and his face was solid and square. He was all hard edges and lines, and he looked positively intimidating compared to stocky, blonde, curvy Wyatt. He was the earth to Wyatt's hot air, she quipped in her head. _

_A smirk was firmly in place on his face, his too-long hair falling over his eyes. Bianca couldn't help but let her Phoenix instincts kick in, assessing him from head to toe with predators' eyes. He was dressed in casual clothing that looked threadbare and worn, probably hand-me-downs. He held himself completely still, his arms crossed loosely, and his eyes darted around the room continuously, observing everything. Outwardly, he looked relaxed and comfortable, but her trained eye could tell that he was also on his guard, like he probably always was, ready to strike or defend at the slightest sign of danger. As she looked him over, she felt him look her over as well, and a mounting respect grew in Bianca's mind. This man was a hunter._

_After a moment, his smirk softened a bit, and he held out his hand for Bianca to shake. "Hi," he said softly, and his deep voice sent a chill down her spine. "It's nice to finally meet you."_

_Bianca took his hand firmly, shaking it slowly. The contact of his warm palm on hers made her stomach drop. She swallowed hard. "Nice to meet you too," she managed._

_After a second, instead of releasing her hand, he pulled her arm towards his body slightly, turning so that her wrist was face up. She frowned, but Chris smirked back at her, tugging her sleeve up a little. "Nice tattoo," he said meaningfully, indicating the Phoenix clan symbol emblazoned on her arm._

_Her breath caught. Oh, shit. "Uh, yeah. A souvenir from a very drunken Saturday night. A word of advice, never let your cousin choose your body art."_

_Wyatt laughed. "I never let my cousin choose anything."_

_Chris's expression darkened at that for some reason, but then his gaze fell back on her face, his eyes piercing. "Where did you say you were from? Salem?" Bianca's stomach dropped. He knew._

"_Salem? Where the hell did you get that, little brother?" Chris scowled at the term. "She's from New York, right?"_

_Bianca nodded numbly. "Yeah." Suddenly, she realized that Chris was still holding her wrist, and she snapped it back, crossing her arms defensively. "We lived in SoHo until I was twelve."_

"_Hey, are you okay?" Wyatt suddenly turned concerned eyes on her. "You look...I dunno, freaked."_

_She gulped. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." she glanced nervously at Chris, who raised an eyebrow at her. "I just feel a little lightheaded. I didn't get much to eat today."_

"_Oh. Well, that's easily fixed. My mom is like, a gourmet cook. I'm sure she's got something made." Wyatt stood up and grinned. "Sit tight."_

_He ran out, leaving Bianca feeling a bit stunned. She snuck a glance at Chris, who stared back at her unflinchingly. "He ran outta here pretty quickly," she said nervously._

_Chris shrugged. "He wants to impress you."_

"_Oh." She felt a mild bit of surreality. She was sitting in Halliwell Manor, and the twice-blessed wanted to impress her. Whoa. _

"_So what clan are you from?" Chris asked casually._

_She started. "What? What do you mean?"_

_He snorted. "Please."_

_She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then deflated. "Phoenix, in Albany. But I swear I'm not evil!" She added quickly._

"_Did I accuse you of being such?"_

_She fidgeted. "Well, I'm technically a demon. I thought..."_

"_That I'd vanquish you as soon as Wyatt turned his back?" She shrugged, and he chuckled. "No, that'd be your boyfriend. Or Leo. I, on the other hand, kinda like to get to know a pretty girl before we get into the whole torture thing."_

_She flushed slightly, recognizing the innuendo. She cleared her throat. "My mother and I ran away from the clan three years ago. She works as an assassin, but she never accepts targets that are human or non-violent. I've been trained just like my mother was, but I've never killed anybody." Her expression darkened as she remembered her training, something she usually tried to avoid thinking about. "We're just trying to start over."_

"_Why'd you leave?" _

_Bianca risked another glance at him, but instead of finding disgust or accusation, she found only simple curiosity. Cautiously, she answered. "My dad..." she trailed off, her throat clenching. "The clan killed him," she managed. "My mom had already had enough of it before that, but she'd stuck around because they were family. But after they murdered him..." she shook her head, the familiar burning anger rising in her chest. "She'd had enough. We'd had enough."_

_Chris nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about your father."_

_She took a deep, shaky breath. "Thank you," she said gratefully._

"_Are you going to tell Wyatt?"_

_She was tempted to lie, but something about his voice, the way he was looking at her, told her to be truthful. "I don't know. How do you think he'd react?"_

_At this, he looked hesitant. "Honestly?"_

_She nodded. "Honest."_

"_Not well."_

"_I was expecting that." He raised an eyebrow. "I've heard rumors about the twice-blessed. Rumors about all of you, actually."_

"_Rumors?" He sounded amused. "What rumors?"_

_She smiled a little. "Oh, you know, the usual. How the Charmed Ones are practically goddesses on earth, the most powerful witches of all time. About how the only ones more powerful are the Charmed Sons. How the twice-blessed will kill anything that moves."_

"_Ah." Chris grinned a little. "Well, yeah, Wyatt's a bit...hasty when it comes to vanquishing." He shook his head. "It's a little annoying, actually. He won't even consider the possibility that maybe not every single demon is evil."_

_Bianca sighed. "I guess that doesn't bode well for me, huh?"_

_Chris blanched a little, seeming to backtrack. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."_

"_It's okay." She waved a hand. "Wyatt and I are just friends. Really."_

"_Do you like him?"_

_She shrugged. "I don't know. A little, maybe, in a 'wow, I can't believe that a Halliwell is actually giving me the time of day' kinda way."_

_Chris smiled a little bitterly. "Yeah, everyone gets a little star struck around Wyatt."_

"_That's only because he's so damn bright that you can't help but look at him. Kinda like the sun."_

"_Yeah, but you look at the sun too long, you burn your eyes."_

"_Exactly my point."_

_Chris laughed. "Well, this Halliwell likes you. You can take that home as your consolation prize."_

"_Who said that you'd be the consolation?" Bianca asked teasingly. "Maybe you're the gold medal."_

"_Ah, my dear Bianca, how much you have yet to learn," he returned sarcastically. "The second son never gets the spotlight. Or the girl."_

"_Maybe the girl would like to choose between the sons herself."_

_He shook his head, still smiling, a little sadly. "That's not how it usually works. You'll see."_

_She opened her mouth to reply, but just then Wyatt reentered the room, carrying a plate of cookies. "Freshly baked," he said, setting the plate down on the coffee table. "Well, freshly microwaved after an afternoon in the freezer," he said, smiling. "Better than nothing."_

_She smiled and took one. "Thanks." _

"_You're a regular Wolfgang Puck, Wyatt," Chris said. "Did you at least remember to take off the tin foil this time?"_

"_Hey, just because I'm not Mom's little chef-in-training doesn't mean I can't microwave a lousy plate of cookies." He paused and glanced at Bianca. "And yes, I did."_

_Chris smirked. "I'm hardly a chef-in-training," he said. "I'm the part time cook at Poor Richard's, remember? I believe that would make me a professional."_

"_Shut up. I'll have you know I make a mean rhubarb pie."_

_Bianca giggled and looked over at Chris. "I'm allergic to rhubarb," she stage-whispered._

"_Your secret's safe with me," Chris said, winking and cocking his head at Wyatt. Bianca sobered and smiled genuinely at him. _

_Wyatt scowled. "Are you making fun of me?"_

"_Yes."_

Bianca shook her head, coming out of the memory. She sighed a little regretfully. That'd been three years ago, right after she'd arrived in San Francisco. Chris had been so different then. He used to be able to make her laugh so hard that tears would stream down her face—and then make her melt into a girly gooey puddle by saying or doing something so sweetly thoughtful in the very next moment. She'd had such a huge crush on him, it almost didn't matter to her that Wyatt didn't seem like he would ever accept her demon side, as long as Chris did.

But then Piper had died, and Chris had changed. He stopped hanging out with her—with anybody. He started going to the Underworld more and more often, hunting demons almost feverishly. Bianca had tried so hard to help him, but he wouldn't let her in, no matter how hard she pushed. She remembered coming home each night in tears, and finally her mother had urged her to let him be, for her own sake.

It was after that that she'd started dating Wyatt. Her heart clenched as she remembered that particular scene.

**iv. The Manor Again**

_Bianca was sitting in the living room at the Manor, glancing nervously around the room. Wyatt had shown up at her door an hour ago and practically dragged her out of the apartment that she shared with her mother, driving like a madman back to his house. He'd stuck her in here and told her not to move, then dashed out like he was being chased by a warlock. Which left her sitting by herself, not at all sure what to think._

"_You look anxious."_

_She jumped at the sudden voice, and whirled around to see Chris, leaning against the door frame casually. She stiffened, still feeling the hurt from his cold demeanor of late, but couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, something that was rare in her life these days. "Oh, so you're talking to me again now? Should I mark the date?"_

_His face stayed blank. "I'm just trying to be friendly."_

"_Hallelujah," she said dryly._

_He stared at her, his gaze as piercing as always. "So you and Wyatt have been spending a lot of time together."_

"_So?"_

"_So did you forget that he doesn't know your deep, dark secret?"_

"_No," she said shortly. "Thanks for bringing it up, by the way."_

"_No problem," he replied easily. There was a moment of silence in which he stared at her while she attempted to ignore him. Finally, he spoke up again. "He's going to ask you out tonight. It's why he practically kidnapped you tonight. He's upstairs digging this stupid promise ring thing out of his closet."_

_Bianca froze, her blood running cold. Her throat was choked for a reason that she couldn't discern. "And you're telling me this why?"_

_He shrugged. "Thought you'd like to be a bit prepared."_

"_Prepared." She swallowed thickly. "And...do you...have any opinion on this?"_

_He was silent for a very long time. "Why would I?"_

_She turned to look at him, but his expression gave nothing away. "No," she replied, bitterness lacing her voice. "Why would you?"_

"_Hey, don't get mad at me."_

"_No, why would I get mad at you?" she snapped. "It's not like you've abruptly cut off all contact with me. It's not like you will barely look at me anymore. It's not like you go out of your way to hurt me in the few moments that you do give me the time of day. It's not like you're acting like a complete jackass. Or anything."_

"_Looks like you've been doing okay with your choice of company. Not like I made much of a difference."_

"_Fuck you," she spat. "I was trying to help you--"_

_If nothing else, that sparked an emotion in him. "I don't need your help," he said hotly. "Why would I want anyone's pity, let alone yours?"_

"_It's not pity, you idiot," she said furiously. "It's called caring about somebody. Look it up."_

"_Don't patronize me!"_

"_Why not? It's all I get from you!"_

_He started to snap back, but abruptly shut his mouth. Bianca saw his face literally close off, all the anger—all the emotion—draining from his face. He stepped out into the hallway, just as she heard Wyatt thunder down the stairs._

"_Whoa, what happened in here?" Wyatt asked, sensing the tension._

_Bianca looked over at him, then quickly turned her face away, wiping her cheeks for any stray tears. "Nothing. Wyatt, why am I here?" she asked shortly, all patience leaving her._

"_Uh..." Wyatt faltered, looking a bit uncomfortable. He glanced at Chris. "Do you think we could have a little privacy, bro?" He gave a meaningful glance, which made Bianca sure that Wyatt had gone to Chris beforehand with this, maybe asked his advice. And Chris had done nothing. Her chest burned._

_Chris gave Bianca a dark look. "Sure," he said. "You lovebirds have fun, now." To Wyatt, the statement was a teasing comment to a brother, but to Bianca, the words were intrinsically painful. Her throat clenched, and she bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep the tears at bay._

_Wyatt blushed and punched Chris in the arm. "Get outta here."_

"_Gladly," he muttered. He brushed by Bianca on his way to the kitchen, and she felt the tension and anger radiating off of him, which ignited even more anger in her. What the hell did he have to be mad about?_

_After he left, there was an awkward silence in which Wyatt fidgeted a little, obviously uncomfortable. He kept playing with something in his pocket—the promise ring that Chris had mentioned—but when he caught her staring, he stopped in what he obviously thought was a covert move. Inwardly she was amused at his bumbling attempts at being smooth. She almost felt sorry for the poor guy._

"_Uh, Bianca?"_

_She sighed, suddenly feeling tired, more tired than she'd felt in a long time. "Yes, Wyatt?"_

"_I, um..." he trailed off. Just say it, Bianca thought. He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, then took a deep breath and plunged in. "Look, I really like you, and I think you like me, and we've been friends for a couple years now and I know that you don't really trust people very easily, but..." he took the ring box out of his pocket and practically shoved it into her hands. "Will you be my girlfriend?"_

_Will you be my girlfriend. She almost laughed. It was such an...innocent question. Like, do you like me? Check yes or no._

"_Wyatt..."_

"_Stop. It's not an engagement ring or anything..." he laughed anxiously. "It's like a promise ring. Phoebe got one from Coop when they started dating, she gave me the idea."_

_Bianca opened the box and saw a gold band with a brilliant red stone set in the center. It shone brightly, and it looked heavy. She hated it instantly. "It's beautiful," she said weakly. "It must've been expensive."_

"_Oh, it was my grandmother's."_

_An heirloom? A Halliwell heirloom? Shit._

"_Wyatt, I don't know..."_

"_Bianca, I can't tell you how much you helped me after Mom..." he trailed off. "You've been great. And I know that you kinda had a crush on my brother..." she started to protest, but he held up a hand. "Please, you so did. But he obviously doesn't like you back, and so I figured that you were over it."_

_Bianca felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Thanks," she said sarcastically._

_He shifted. "Naw, I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I just meant, Chris is...he's just not the dating type, you know?"_

_She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "He had a hard time after your mom died," she said. "Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him."_

_Wyatt looked a little angry at this. "He's got a whole family that wants to believe in him, but he won't let us." He looked away from her. "Look, this isn't about him. This is about us." He moved forward and took her hand, smiling. "I like you. I like you a lot. I'd like for us to date."_

_She looked up at Wyatt, at sincere, sweet, naïve Wyatt, and Chris's face flashed through her mind's eye. Closed off, bitter, angry, unstable. She sighed and smiled softly. He wasn't Chris, but Chris wasn't an option. Wyatt was kind and he cared about her. What did she have to lose?_

"_Okay," she said quietly. His face split into a grin._

_He kissed her and it was slightly uncomfortable for her but he seemed to enjoy it, and she late as he walked her out to his car to drive her home, she tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on her back._

"Bianca?" She snapped back to reality, seeing Jacqui's hand waving around in front of her face. She knocked it away in annoyance. "Where'd you go? You were totally spacing out."

She shook her head. "Nowhere."

Jacqui smiled tightly. "Daydreaming about lover boy?"

"Something like that."

Jacqui nodded, and for some reason it turned awkward. "Well, that dress will look awesome on you," she said. "Wyatt will pass out."

"Yeah," she said. "Great."

_Just great._

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	2. I'd Cheat Destiny Just To Be Near You

For some reason, I'm picturing Brooke as a sort of a coked up version of the Brooke from One Tree Hill. So...yeah, picture that.

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**I'd Cheat Destiny Just To Be Near You**

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**v. Southside High School**

"_Have you lost your mind!" Pain. Air, need— "I don't need you!" Darkness, then—Bianca. Oh, Bianca._

"_Haven't we been here before?"_

_There was so much blood—no. Not her. Please. No... "No!" Chocolate hair, golden skin, and he could still remember the first time he kissed her, the first time she told him that she loved him, how he could tell how big of a moment it was just by looking at her. How her hands used to shake whenever he'd touch her. No._

"_...so he can't send anyone else. Go."_

_A flash of light, an energy ball...Wyatt._

"What _are _you thinking about?"

Chris jerked his head up, startled out of his thoughts. "What?"

Brooke Chase slammed her lunch tray down on the table with a dramatic flourish, rolling her eyes. "You're always doing that, staring off into space like a douche bag. Where do you go?"

He raised an eyebrow. "An alternate universe where I'm engaged to Bianca and Wyatt is evil," he said calmly.

Brooke snorted. "Okay, Freud. I get it." She popped a fry into her mouth. "You know, if you want me to shut up, all you have to do is say so."

He smirked. "Shut up, Brooke."

She adopted a mock-offended look. "Well, fine then. I guess you don't want to hear about the scintillating invite that I just received."

"Who is it this time, that guy you've been stringing along from Wyatt's basketball team? What's his name, Mike?" he asked idly.

"Mitch. And yeah—but that's so not the scintillating part." Chris didn't reply, instead reaching over and snagging a cookie from her plate. "Well?" She squirmed, grinning, and he took a bite, looking at her disinterestedly. "Okay, I'm going to tell you since you're obviously dying to know. It's to Jacqui Smyth's party tonight."

He snorted. "Jacqui Smyth is scintillating? Are you sure you don't mean...skanky?"

"Yes. Well, okay, she is a bit of a skankoid, but her party? Definitely of the scintillating variety." Brooke jumped up and down in her seat, obviously brimming with excitement. "And guess who's gonna be there?"

"Hmm...Barbie and Ken?"

"Bingo!" Brooke adopted a devilish expression, leaning toward Chris and lowering her voice. "I overheard your dear brother confirming his appearance to Mark Cohen earlier in the Chem lab."

"So?"

"So!" Brooke rolled her eyes. "He's gonna take Bianca."

"I already knew that," Chris said, unimpressed. "Is this why you interrupted my brooding?"

"Honey, you don't brood, you daydream. About your brother's girlfriend. Which is a little sick, but hey, I get it. She's hot." Brooke's face lapsed and turned dreamy. "She's like, the ultimate specimen, with those huge eyes and that long dark hair, all tan and leggy..."

"Do I need to leave you alone?" Chris interrupted dryly.

Brooke scowled. "Shut up."

"You never cease to amaze me. Just go pick up a girl and do it already."

"I can't just..._do it_." Brooke shuddered. "My first experience has to be special."

"You're far from a virgin," Chris countered. "And while I admit, sex with a woman would be vastly different than with a man, it doesn't make that much of a difference, does it? You said yourself that you didn't want to wait until you fell in love."

"It does matter, though," she insisted. "I'm gonna remember it forever, just like I'll remember my first time with a guy forever." She grinned. "As I recall, I think you'll remember my first time, too."

"Your first time was my first time too," Chris replied. "And the fact that you told me that you were a lesbian the _next morning_ doesn't really bode well, so I'd kinda like to block the entire experience out, thank you."

"It's not like you drove me to it, you just helped me realize it, that's all. At least I waited until after sunrise." Brooke shrugged unapologetically. "Besides, it was good. You have to admit that."

Chris shook his head. "I give up."

"You really should." Brooke chomped down on the pile of fries on her plate. "So are you going?" she asked, her mouth full.

"Nice," he muttered. Brooke grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, and Chris grimaced at the mangled, chewed food that she displayed proudly. "That's mature."

"Thank you."

"I'm not going."

She swallowed. "Why not? You totally should."

"And chum around with the in-crowd all night? No thanks."

"You know, technically, you and I are a part of the in-crowd." Brooke took another fry, smirking. "They think that we like them."

"Yeah. How'd that happen, anyway?"

"Well, I'm a cheerleader, so they have to include me. And you seem to be defaulted in because of Wyatt. Which is weird."

"Uh huh. For some reason he wants people to think that he likes me."

"He does like you," Brooke said. "When he wants a favor." Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, it's better than nothing."

"Yeah right."

"So are you gonna go?"

He sighed, picturing the two versions of Bianca's face that he had in his head. One that was older, more haggard, creased with lines, but also shone with determination, strength and love. The other, younger, naïve, and attached to Wyatt. His chest surged with a familiar surge of righteous anger and possession. She was _his_, damn it. After all that he'd done, given up... "Fine. I'll go."

Brooke clapped excitedly. "Yay. You can be my date."

Chris caught sight of Bianca across the quad, sitting with the cheerleaders, surrounded by hairspray and plastic smiles. Her own smile was as fake as the rest of them, and Chris's chest ached a little to see her like that. Fuck. "Oh, goody."

**vi. The Underworld**

There was a scrying pool that Klea used to channel with, and it was so cliché that it disgusted her, but it was necessary. She wasn't powerful enough yet to astral project without help. Word among the crowds was that it used to belong to the Original Seer, servant of the Original Source.

Well, it was hers now. And if that wasn't a sign...

She waved her hand over it to activate it, smiling in cold satisfaction as the image of the youngest Charmed Son coalesced in the fog.

She studied him, the way he carried himself, how constantly on guard he was. This was a tricky one.

He couldn't be merely seventeen, she decided. He was older. Maybe not in body, but something happened to him. He did not hold himself like a teenager would, he moved like a hunter.

Klea tapped a fingernail on her teeth thoughtfully, still studying his image. Yes, this would be tricky.

"Cain!"

An upper level demon shimmered into her office, his head bowed in respect. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I want Belthazor here."

Cain snapped his head up, surprised. "But, madam, Belthazor is..."

"Hidden, I know." Klea shook her head in disgust. "Find the Charmed Son—the smart one. The half-Elder—the one that fought you. He's cloaking him, I know it."

Cain looked unsure. "Madam..."

"Are you questioning me?" Klea's voice was deadly quiet.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cain shimmered out, and Klea leaned back in her chair, wearing a deadly smile, her eyes flashing red.

**vii. Jacqui's Party**

Bianca was not having a good night.

She was wrapped in this dress that was way too tight and way too short, and in seeing her in it, Wyatt's jaw had dropped to his chest. He hadn't been able to keep his hands off her all night, which is what she wanted, right? She rolled her eyes, irritated with herself. This so shouldn't be bothering her.

Currently, she was sitting on a couch in Jacqui's basement, away from the party, trying to keep her thighs away from her boyfriend's sweaty paws.

"Wyatt, I think we should get back to the party." Wyatt ignored her, focusing on trailing kisses down her neck. He mumbled something incoherently. "What?" She nudged him away. "What did you say?"

"Bianca, I haven't seen you in awhile, I just wanna be close to you."

_Close to me, on top of me, what's the difference_? "I'm not very comfortable doing anything here."

"Why? No one's gonna walk in."

"There's a raging kegger going on upstairs, Wyatt!" She pulled away from him.

"C'mon, baby--"

"Don't call me that," she snapped severely, her sudden anger surprising both Wyatt and herself.

"Why not?"

"I just..." she searched for a logical answer, but couldn't find one. "I don't like it when people call me that."

Wyatt seemed unsure, and he scooted back on the couch a little, frowning. "Um, okay."

"_We're gonna make it, baby."_

The voice—the memory of the voice really—came out of nowhere, and Bianca's face paled. It was Chris's voice. Chris, but different. Heavier. Older. And he sounded...tired. And hopeful.

Where the fuck did that come from?

She jumped off the couch like it was on fire, startling Wyatt. "I—I gotta go," she stammered, tearing up the stairs.

She was breathing heavily when she burst into the main room of the party, her head spinning. Faces swarmed across her vision, and she could feel sweat running down her back.

"Bianca...okay? Bi...? Can...hear me?" Jacqui's voice, floating in and out.

Suddenly, it was all too much, too much Wyatt, Chris, Chris and Wyatt, Chris not Wyatt, and fuck—she whirled around, intent on getting out, out out of there, and ended up running into somebody's chest.

"Watch it, Barbie." Chris. Of course.

She pushed against him, and she would've shoved anyone else out of her way, but Chris was too solid on his feet. "Fuck off," she mumbled.

"Bianca?" He was concerned about her? _Now_? "Are you okay?"

"Fuck off," she said, more firmly. She tried to walk away from him, but stumbled on her feet. She felt a strong arm on her shoulders, keeping her from falling.

"Bianca, how much have you had to drink?" What? "Bianca, focus. How much did you drink?"

"One...a beer. J'st one, I swear."

Chris frowned, and somehow everything but his face turned a little fuzzy. "Who gave it to you? Was it in a cup?"

"I...dunno. Wyatt." Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, the words were hard to pronounce.

"Wyatt gave it to you?" Chris's face turned stormy and he cursed. "Bianca, focus. Stay awake."

She was falling, falling, and Chris was still holding her shoulders, and everything was still so fuzzy, and...damn. "Why are you...mad...?" He looked so mad. "You're always mad."

"Bianca? ...anca, hold on. I...here. I'm here."

Chris?

"_We're gonna make it, baby."_

**viii. Dream—Memory—Whatever **

"_I hate black," she announced. The door slammed against the wall, and she grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut again, the second 'bang' in a row feeling better than the first._

_Chris looked up from where he was tracking zodiac charts, raising an eyebrow at his fiancé's dramatic entrance. "Okay," he said vacantly._

"_He's making us wear black now," she said furiously. "These...uniforms." She spat out the word in disgust. "Look!"_

_She tore off the trench coat, revealing a black, leather bodysuit, held together with huge, silver buckles. It was tight and cut low in all the right—or wrong places—and left almost nothing to the imagination. It was an outfit meant to degrade._

_Chris set down his pencil and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know whether to be intimidated or turned on," he said._

"_Shut up."_

"_No, no, I'm serious," Chris said, standing up. "I know it sounds bad, but you look hot. Like a dominatrix version of yourself."_

_Bianca tamped down her grin. "Chris, stop. This is horrible. Look at me!"_

"_I am looking at you," he replied, grinning. "And I am seriously humbled. I've been so bad. Mistress."_

_Her mouth quirked. "Stop it."_

"_Punish me." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I _need _the pain."_

_She broke out into giggles. "Oh, Chris, that's so creepy."_

_He nuzzled her neck, laughing. "I know, isn't it?"_

_She leaned into his embrace, sighing. "You always do that."_

"_Do what?"_

"_Make me laugh when everything is so terrible."_

_His arms tightened around her. "And you make me depressed when everything is peachy keen."_

_She slapped him lightly. "Shut up. I'm not a cynic."_

"_You so are."_

"_I'm not! I'm realistic."_

"_Realistically cynical."_

"_If I'm cynical, then you're neurotic."_

_Chris smiled, feigning confusion. "Wait, you didn't already know that? You do know who I am, right?"_

_Her smile faltered. "Yes. I know exactly who you are." She buried her face in his chest, taking a deep breath._

_He rubbed her back slowly, his voice lowering. "I know it's bad, but...it's the only way."_

_She was quiet for a long moment. "You know, this spy shit isn't as glamorous as I thought it'd be," she said, her voice muffled by Chris's chest. "There are no cool gadgets, the only villains are demonic, not cool at all, no exotic sex in faraway countries, and the only Bond girl is me, and I feel decidedly trashy at the moment."_

"_Hey, there was that time in London. That was in another country."_

"_It wasn't exotic, though."_

"_Well, fine, then next time we're in the Underworld, just bring this outfit with you. I'm sure they'll be some chains and whips around."_

_She barked out a short laugh. "Pig."_

_He sighed, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm sorry, you know. I wish..." he trailed off, unable to voice everything he wanted to say._

"_I know." She lifted her head up and snaked her hands around his neck, pressing her lips to his sweetly. Pulling away, she grinned. "When this is over, I'm never going to wear the color black again."_

"_Oh really?"_

"_Nope. Strictly bright colors. Pink and blue and green, yellow, red, purple, orange..." she smiled dreamily. "No black. Or grey. White's okay, but only if I have another color with it."_

"_I can see you in colors."_

"_Yeah." She grinned. "No combat boots, either. I'm gonna wear stilettos every day of the week. Or those strappy heeled sandal things. Girly shoes, you know. And I'm gonna paint my toenails, too. Maybe wear an anklet or two."_

_He smiled. "I can't wait." Her expression darkened, and instantly he knew what she was thinking. "It'll happen," he insisted. "We're gonna make it, baby. I know we will."_

_She smiled, leaning into him. "I hope so."_

**ix. Chris's Car**

She came to slowly, the vestiges of her dream—memory—whatever—slipping away like smoke through her fingers.

Groggily, she registered hands in her hair, running through the strands in a soothing motion. She turned towards the warmth, and one of the hands went to her cheek.

"Bianca?"

She blinked, her vision coming back to her slowly. "Chris?" she mumbled, still half inside her dream.

"Shh." His hands moved down, pulling the sweaty hair away from her neck and smoothing it over her shoulders. The cool air rushed at her, bringing clarity with it.

She jerked up a little, looking around. "Chris?" She was sitting in the backseat of his car, leaning back against Chris's chest.

"Hey."

She frowned, running a hand through her hair. "What happened?"

Chris shifted, sitting up straighter, his hand now on her back, between her shoulder blades. The feel of it sent chills down her spine. "What do you remember?"

She thought for a moment. "Wyatt and I talking in the basement...he called me 'baby' and I didn't like it..." she heard Chris intake a sharp breath. "I ran away, and I heard..." she trailed off.

"Heard what?"

"You," she said. "You were talking to me, about...leather? And telling me to punish you?" She frowned, confused. "And something about colors, and..." she let out a long breath. "You said that we were gonna make it. Whatever that means." She turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were focused far away. "Chris?"

He focused back on her after a second. "Wyatt slipped you some rohypnol."

She gasped, stunned. "What?"

He nodded. "I don't think he knew he was doing it, but that drink that he gave you had rohypnol, among other things, in it."

She collapsed against the seat. "What...how..." she closed her eyes, shaking her head, unable to make it any further into the sentence.

Chris sighed. "He didn't mean to, Bianca. That friend of his, Mark something, he gave Wyatt the drink. He said to give it to you, said it would help you 'loosen up.'" He shook his head. "Wyatt just assumed that it was alcohol."

"Did you talk to him?"

Chris nodded. "You collapsed in front of me, and I caught you, brought you out to my car. Wyatt came out not too long afterwards. He was worried." His voice was tense and angry. "He's an idiot."

"You said he didn't mean to." Bianca's voice was blank.

"He shouldn't have given you that drink," Chris retorted. "You never drink out of an open container at a party like that, I thought Wyatt was smart enough to know that." Chris shook his head. "What could've happened—Jesus." He let out a sharp breath. "If you hadn't gotten angry and came back upstairs..." he trailed off, the words staying unsaid.

Bianca closed her eyes, feeling the tears gather behind her eyelids. "Where is he?"

"He went home," Chris replied. "Once he found out you were going to be okay, he caught a ride with Jacqui." Bianca's face tightened. "He was kind of drunk, too."

"Yeah." She marveled at how much of a jerk he could be without realizing it, sometimes. "What time is it? Where are we?"

"It's about three," he said. "I drove you to the park, I needed to get you away from the party." He swallowed. "I hope you don't mind."

Bianca opened her eyes, studying him in the soft moonlight, pouring in through the window. He looked tired, and sad, and...something else. She could see the outlines of the trees in the park out of the window behind his head. He looked like a painting. "What's going on?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

She frowned. "You know what I mean. Why don't I like Wyatt calling me 'baby'? Is it because you call me 'baby'?" She sat up a little, so that she was face to face with him. "Why am I dreaming about you? Why do you hate me?" Chris stayed silent, his face looking like it was carved from stone. "Did we have a relationship?" she tried. "Did something happen? Maybe a...spell? Someone made me forget?"

He shook his head. "No." He swallowed. "Not exactly."

She gestured helplessly with her hands, realizing idly that they were shaking. "Then what, Chris? Something had to have happened, for you to all of a sudden snap into 'let's hurt Bianca' mode." He closed his eyes, as if in pain. "This isn't the first dream I've had about you," she said softly. "It's the one that I remember the most of. All the others...all I remember is your face, your voice. Talking to me...I don't remember what about. Sometimes it's serious things, most of the time it's serious, I think. But other times...it's silly. Or light, or...passionate." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I remember feeling your hands, your...it isn't just my imagination. I know it isn't," she insisted.

Chris opened his eyes, pinning her in place with his gaze. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

His hand went to her chin, tracing the line of her jaw. "God, you depress me," he murmured.

Her eyes flashed in remembrance. "And you make me laugh," she replied, not even really realizing that the words were leaving her mouth.

Some of the ice in his eyes crumbled away, and she couldn't help but crawl into him, on him. Her arms went around his neck, his mouth covering hers, and it all felt so natural. So easy. Familiar.

The last vestiges of thought were burned away in a wash of heat, racing beneath her skin, spreading through her body like wildfire. His hands went to her back, and the dress had no back so she could feel them (oh yes, yes she could), and he flattened them out on her skin, the wide length of his palms barely covering the entire span of her back. It made her feel small—small and protected.

The kiss wasn't chaste or pure or sweet like most first kisses are—_this wasn't their first_—it was raw and hard and fast—the kind of kissing that you never saw in the movies, because it didn't look pretty. She tasted blood and she knew somewhere in the back of her head that she was going to need a very creative excuse to explain that cut on her lip—teeth and tongue and mouth and everything—she felt devoured.

This had happened before. She could feel it. She was eighteen years old, for Christ's sake—how else would she recognize this kind of passion? This should be scary and overwhelming and she should be pulling away because she didn't want her first time to be in the back of an old Chevy—but she _remembered_ this, damn it. It wasn't new. It was a little scary, sure—but in a good way. In a stomach twisting, heated way. Fuck, this was weird.

He shouldn't have laid her out on her back on the seat, shouldn't have peeled the dress away from her body, and she shouldn't have known exactly where to put her hands and her lips, or how to squeeze his hips with her thighs, or where that spot on his collarbone was that made him moan. He shouldn't have grabbed her hips so tightly that she thought she could feel them on her bones, shouldn't have known to whisper nonsense into her ear to calm her nerves. She shouldn't have rubbed the backs of his calves with her heel, and she shouldn't have known that it would make him shudder and start moving inside her.

She shouldn't have thrown her head back and clenched her eyes shut, and he shouldn't have bit her neck, right at the spot where it met her shoulder—and she _definitely_ shouldn't have liked it. She shouldn't have burst into tears—of so many different kinds of emotions, she couldn't even name them all—and he shouldn't have kissed her forehead and rubbed her back until she calmed down. She shouldn't have apologized for whatever it was that he was angry at her for, and he shouldn't have forgiven her.

He should have driven her home as soon as she had started to ask questions. He should've walked her to her door, he should've been polite and detached. He should've told her to call Wyatt.

But he didn't.

"_We're gonna make it, baby."_

Later, he drove her home, neither of them wanting to voice the fact that she could've shimmered. He was chased by the sunrise, the bleak, early morning light highlighting the subtle colors in her face, the ones that used to make him wish he was a painter.

If she turned her head a certain way, he could see a shimmer of dark blue on her chin, and her skin was tinted auburn on her forehead. There was a slight birthmark on her cheek, and in this light it was copper-colored. The strands of her hair fell around her shoulders in dark waves, and the shine on them made the curls look dark purple.

It was a moment like that, in another lifetime, that made him fall in love with her. The moment he realized that on the outside, she was a creature of the night, but her destiny was with the rainbows. She was just so full of color.

He pulled up outside her apartment building, his actions slow to match the morning. He parked and turned the car off, centering his hands on the steering wheel.

Bianca turned to look at him. "I should get inside," she said quietly. "My mom will already be worried."

He nodded. "You should."

She looked unsure, and so painfully beautiful. "Chris...we need to talk."

"Yes, we do." He met her eyes. "We will. Soon."

"Okay." She nodded, appeased. She smiled, a little unsurely, and moved to exit the car.

"Bianca." She stopped, and looked back at him. "I...I don't hate you. I never did."

Her smile turned genuine. "Thank you."

He watched her go, her strappy heels clicking on the pavement, her toenails painted brightly, her red dress glaringly bright against the drab colors of the city street. She was a splash of illumination, like a headlight into a pitch black night.

He waited until she had completely vanished into her building, and on his way back home, he could swear that he saw flashes of crimson out of the corner of his eye, coming from the backseat.

Jesus, he was in trouble.

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The dialogue from _Chris Crossed_ in the beginning doesn't belong to me. Obviously.

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	3. Fight The Break Of Dawn

I forgot to mention at the beginning, this is definitely AU. I lost interest in canon around season seven, so there will be small elements of the last season in the story, but for the most part, it never happened. Christy and Billie, for instance, will definitely not be making an appearance, and neither will anything from the overly sappy, really disappointing series finale. Sorry to all you Billie fans.

00

**Fight The Break Of Dawn**

00

**x. Magic School**

"Ten o'clock and already my inbox is full." Paige sighed in resignation, slumping into her desk chair. She felt vaguely reminded of her days in social work, remembering eying her mailbox, full of adoption papers to file and reports to chase every morning with distaste. This really wasn't that different, only the delinquents here conjured ghosts in the bathrooms and transfigured the cafeteria into a barn instead of mere grand theft auto.

As Headmistress of Magic School, Paige's main job was to keep order, something that she originally was unaccustomed to. Being the youngest sibling, it usually fell to her to organize the disorder, leaving the middle sister duties to Phoebe. She remembered having long, drawn out fights with Piper, each of them too stubborn to give in until Phoebe got fed up and knocked them both into line.

Paige felt a pang of grief at the thought of her eldest sister, a pang that she was sure would never go away. It'd been three years since Piper's death, and she still felt angry that even with advanced warning, they still hadn't been able to keep her alive through Chris's fifteenth birthday.

Since then, life at the Manor had been anything but smooth. Chris had immediately gone on a demon rampage, and Paige and Phoebe had worried themselves sick about him, going off who knows where in the Underworld. Thankfully, he'd calmed down, but Paige still suspected that he went down there every once in awhile.

While Chris had chosen to vent his anger on evil, Leo had apparently turned his inward. He'd become a shell of his former self, only showing any kind of passion whatsoever when he was around Wyatt. Wyatt himself had handled the loss like a true Halliwell, throwing himself into his studies, just as Paige and Phoebe tended to throw themselves into work. Paige had been slightly worried about him, but once he started dating Bianca she'd been able to relax. Not that knowing that your nephew was dating a possibly evil assassin witch made her relax all that much, but since she'd shown no signs of even knowing about magic, Paige hadn't gotten too worried. Or let Phoebe become too worried. Maybe Bianca grew up outside her coven, or her mother never told her about her heritage, frankly, Paige didn't care enough to find out.

But while the pain had weakened considerably after these past few years, she remembered vividly the horrible days after Piper's funeral, when she couldn't gather the energy or drive to even cry. When Prue had died, Paige had barely been apart of the magical world, and had always viewed her sisters' grief with a sympathetic, but still detached view. Now, though, she knew firsthand the overwhelming, debilitating misery that came with losing a sibling, someone who was such a part of herself that she knew that she'd lost some of her heart with Piper. Paige still had trouble getting out of bed some mornings, but thankfully Henry was all too willing to be her crying shoulder, and she thanked the Goddess daily for sending such a sweet, strong, muscular fireman into her life. Hallelujah.

"Mrs. Matthews? Mrs. Matthews!"

Paige jerked out her thoughts abruptly, sighing. Someone coming to complain? It wasn't even lunch yet. "Yes?"

Bebe Nevins, a sophomore student, burst through the doors, obviously winded from running. "There's something you should see."

"What?"

"Just…you need to come."

Confused and slightly alarmed, Paige followed the young girl through the library into the room that the students had dubbed, 'The Dungeon.' It was the Elder Gideon's former office, a large, Medieval-style room with stone walls and huge mirrors. All the furniture had long been moved out, and now in place were three large, stone pillars, which proudly displayed the Relics.

The Relics were three magical scrying crystals that were centuries old. It was said that they were once in the hands of Merlin himself. But one confirmed owner of these original 'crystal balls' was an ancestor of the Charmed Ones, a witch with the power of clairvoyance, Grace Halliwell.

No one knew exactly how Grace had come into possession of the Relics, but it was known that she had trained with them vigorously, growing so confident in her ability to use them that at the later stages of her life, she scarcely left their presence, acting as a sort of puppet master, sending her daughters after various warlocks and demons that she viewed in the milky surfaces.

However, the Relics carried a heavy price. Grace drained all her energy into them, and she simply collapsed at the age of fifty, a life that was cut very short, especially for a Warren witch. After her death, the Elders seized the Relics, locking them away in the sanctuary that mortals simply referred to in hushed tones as "…Up There."

But after the Great Massacre in 2004, when the Titans escaped and slaughtered all but a few of the Elders, all the artifacts were put at risk. The Relics were then moved to Magic School for protection, the safest place on Earth…literally.

They were hidden in a dungeon far beneath the school for years, and it was there they remained through the period when Gideon was Headmaster, then after his betrayal and death, when evil took over the school. Finally, in 2011 when the school was reclaimed and reopened for good by the Charmed Ones, the Relics were moved upstairs to The Dungeon, where they could be viewed and used (sparingly) by advanced magic students and teachers.

Usually, the room was kept dark and quiet, the eerie glow of the three orbs the only light source in the room. But at the moment when Paige followed her student into the room, it was emblazoned with light from torches that were lit on the walls.

"What's going on?"

Bebe pointed a shaky finger at the center of the room. The pillar where the middle orb was placed was surrounded by teachers, mumbling and conferring in hushed, urgent tones. Paige felt a creeping feeling of dread, and she turned to Bebe, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, Bebe. You should probably go back to class."

Bebe nodded, giving a tight smile and fleeing the creepy room.

Paige had been Headmistress of Magic School for going on ten years, and never before had anything happened with the Relics. She'd learned of their history when they'd reopened the school, and had recognized and felt the power in the small crystal balls. If something had happened to them…it wouldn't be good.

She strode forward to the crowd. "What happened?"

A few of the teachers jumped, and Carrie Saunders, the levitation professor, came forward to greet Paige. "One of the Relics woke up."

"What?" Paige asked. "Who activated it?"

"No one," Carrie replied, her voice hushed. "Remus was on guard, and he said that it just came to life, all by itself."

"That's not possible." Paige shook her head. "Is it showing something? A vision?"

Carrie nodded. "It's…We don't know what to think." She shook her head, looking pale. "It's like, on a loop or something. It just keeps playing these few successions of images, over and over again."

Paige frowned. "Let me see."

She pushed through to the pillar, feeling the small heat and glow of the Relic on her face. She bent down and gazed intently into the glass, seeing the vague beginnings of an image in its depths.

Suddenly, it sprang to life, exploding with color. An explosion. Her heart leapt into her throat.

The red and orange of the flames melted into a brilliant blue sky, a bird's eye view of a small village in the mountains.

It then shifted into a graveyard in the midst of the night. There was a bench near the tombstones, and Paige could barely make out two shadowed figures sitting before it changed again, this time into an image of a huge book, the edges of the pages crumbling with age. She thought it looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place exactly where—she recognized the writing as a Grimoire, however.

It changed again, to a gilded athame that Paige knew was definitely familiar, and then to—Chris? But it wasn't her Chris, it was the other Chris, the one that she knew Leo still thought about. The older, tired, frantic, tense version, the one that slept in the back room of P3 and dragged them on endless demon hunts. This image of him was sitting at the bar at the club with a deck of tarot cards, looking worried.

Paige's nerves were jumping, her mind was spinning—this obviously had something to do with Chris, probably Wyatt too—but what of the Grimoire and the athame? A Grimoire was a demonic version of a Book of Shadows, and she'd seen numerous demons and warlocks use athames—but she _knew_ that she recognized those two specific objects, though where exactly she couldn't figure.

And the explosion—obviously a warning, but warning against what, exactly? It could've been a car exploding or a building or an entire city, Paige couldn't tell. Or maybe it was just a negative warning in general. And the village?

The last image took longer to form, and she had to squint to see it properly. It was a darkened room with a bed, that much she could tell, and there was a figure laying down—she could vaguely see some medical equipment around, but it wasn't a hospital room.

The image blacked out again and refocused, this time on the figure in the bed, and when it finally lightened enough for his face to be clear, Paige felt her breath leave her, and all the blood drained out of her face.

"Cole?"

**xi. Bianca's Car, Outside the Manor**

Cars were really funny things, Bianca figured. Like moving living rooms, huge, hulking things that served as garbage cans, changing rooms, even bedrooms.

Bianca involuntarily shot a glance at Chris's car, parked across the street, and her face flushed with heat. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. _Stop stalling_, she told herself. _It's just Chris_.

Just Chris, right. Just Chris, who after three years of sparse, if any, contact, had fucked her in the backseat of that Chevy the night before—and it was fucking, Bianca knew that, she knew the difference and she could feel it, and it was one of those things that she shouldn't know but she did, just like all the facts that were suddenly appearing in her brain. Stuff like how Chris loved it when she wore her hair up, because he loved to pull the clip out and watch her hair fall. And how he had a fetish for her legs, and secretly he hated to cook because it reminded him of Piper, and how he hated that he still loved Wyatt.

Why? Bianca thought desperately. What does this all mean? Why would Chris loathe himself for the mere fact that he loved his brother? From her point of view, Chris and Wyatt had had their rough spots, but they got on relatively well. They weren't as close as Phoebe and Paige, but it was different, right? And how the hell did she know all this, anyway?

Her earlier theory that maybe someone had placed a forgetful spell on her that was just now wearing off still made sense, but Chris had denied it_. Not exactly_, was what he said actually—and if they'd had a relationship, then surely Chris would've been willing and able to save her from something as simple as a memory spell.

But even if it was something like that, then it didn't explain her dreams, the fuzzy images of an older, wiser Chris that hovered in the back of her head. Or the dream that she now remembered only bits and pieces of—she was wearing a uniform of some sort, and she was living with Chris. And she was sure she wasn't going crazy, either, Chris had known what she was talking about last night.

Well, either he'd known, or he'd pretended that he'd known to get into her pants.

But he'd known exactly how and where to touch her, and he seemed so familiar with how she moved—and he'd known just the right words to say to calm her down—a feat that she knew was almost impossible when she burst into her rare fits of emotion that she'd lapsed into last night. But he'd whispered stupid, silly things into her ear, and within moments she was calm, and how did he know how to do that, if he didn't know _her_? The real her? And how desperate his kisses were, like he hadn't seen her in years. How tightly he held on, how long it took him to let go. How part of her didn't want him to. A big part.

Love. God, though. What a stupid idea.

Sighing, she squinted out her window, the Manor looming high against the late afternoon sun. Resolutely, took one last calming breath and exited her car, walking purposefully toward the huge house.

She stood in front of the door, her fist held out to knock, when a wave of anxiety washed over her. "Oh shit," she muttered. "I can't do this."

She turned to run back to her car, but froze when she heard the door open behind her. "Bianca?"

Whirling around, she plastered a smile on her face. "Wyatt."

"Hey," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Uh, I was worried about you—the party last night...it..." his words tumbled out in a rush, then trailed off awkwardly.

She frowned, then remembered the whole rohypnol thing. "Oh, that." She shook her head. "It's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She shifted her weight. "Uh, Chris—he explained about Mark, how you didn't know what was in it." He still looked unsure, and she felt a bit sorry for him. "Hey, I'm okay, nothing happened. It's all good."

"Yeah," he muttered, looking unconvinced.

She swallowed, gathering her courage. "Actually, is...is Chris here? I kinda wanted to thank him. For, you know, driving me home, making sure I was okay..." she watched him nervously, afraid of a reaction.

Wyatt nodded, seeming distracted. "Yeah, he told me he got you home okay this morning." He still wouldn't look her in the eye. "I was kind of hungover," he added.

"Wyatt...no hard feelings, okay?"

"Hmm?" He shook his head slightly, chuckling a little. "Sorry. Headache."

"Right." She laughed anxiously. "So...is Chris here? I saw his car..."

"Oh. Yeah. He's in his room, you can go on up." Wyatt stepped out onto the stoop. "I have to go run some errands for Phoebe, anyway."

"Okay."

He smiled and brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek as he passed her by, and she swallowed thickly, feeling the guilt rise up in her throat. "I'm glad...that you're okay," he said.

She smiled thinly, and he smiled tensely back. He turned and continued down the steps, sighing. She watched him go a little sadly, fully aware that whatever kind of relationship they had was falling apart at the seams. Out of guilt or some sense of responsibility, she waited until he disappeared around the corner before going inside.

She crept upstairs, afraid of running into Phoebe or Paige, or worse, Leo. She knew that they didn't like her, Leo especially, probably because they sensed that she wasn't completely mortal. Experienced witches had a sixth sense thing like that.

She knew which room was Chris's—well, the real her knew it, not the weird other her that'd been showing up recently. She took some comfort in the thought. She knocked softly before she had the chance to second guess herself again.

The door swung open with a whoosh of telekinesis, and she heard Chris's muffled voice from the closet. "Wyatt, I told you I'm not coming."

She paused, then took a tentative step inside. "Well, not right now you're not," she quipped, feeling not unlike she was diving into the deep end of a huge, dark, vaguely scary pool. "Last night, well—that was a different story."

There was a long, loaded silence, then he stepped out from the closet, his eyes falling on her. "Bianca."

"Hey." She smiled unsurely, playing with her hands nervously. "Uh...I saw Wyatt leaving," she said. "He told me to come on up, I hope you don't mind..."

"Uh, no," he said, sounding vaguely surprised. He stepped out of his closet, swinging the door shut behind him. "I was just, uh..." he trailed off, a grimace on his face. "Wait, I don't need to lie to you. I was working on a potion."

She laughed. "Oh. Well, okay. Why would you need to lie about that to anyone?"

He shrugged, looking over her shoulder. "Leo and the aunts...they don't like me getting into the craft too heavily."

She felt kind of sad that she didn't know this. "Why not? You're an amazing witch."

"Mom," he said uneasily, stepping away from the closet. "Come in. Make yourself at home," he said, swiftly changing the subject. He swept his arm in a broad gesture. "Want the tour of my glamorous bachelor pad? We can begin and end all in the same room."

She giggled, surveying the cluttered room. "Nice." It was messy at first glance, but she could tell that it was probably painstakingly kept at its current state. Severely controlled chaos. Yup, that was Chris. She sat down on his bed, running her hands over his comforter. Dark blue, cotton, soft. Her knees went weak at the feel of the material.

Chris sat at the desk chair, and she could tell that he was trying desperately hard not to look at her. Funny, this was the second Halliwell today who wouldn't meet her eyes. "So...this is when we..._talk_, right?"

"_Talk_," she repeated. "You make it sound so ominous."

"Heh, yeah." He scratched at his head, looking kind of embarrassed. "Look, I'm sorry about...you know." He crossed his arms. "I never meant to, just...attack you, like I did."

"Attack?" she said idly. "Didn't feel like an attack to me."

"You know what I mean. I'm sorry. I know you were a virgin..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, smiling a little. "That's not important." She looked at the trace of his shoulders, outlined beneath his t-shirt. "What are you thinking right now?" she blurted out.

He shifted again, still looking a vague point over her shoulder. "I'm thinking that you really shouldn't be sitting on my bed while we have this conversation."

She flushed fiercely and stood up. "Uh, right." She tucked her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture. "Where do you want me, then?"

He let his breath out heavily. "Uh, anywhere." Jesus.

"Okay." She moved to stand next to him, perching on the edge of the desk, leaning over him. "This okay?" Her voice had somehow gone very hoarse. Funny.

"Yeah." He sounded strangled. "That's...that's fine." He still hadn't looked her in the eye, but she could see his hands twitching.

She raised an eyebrow and scooted back to fully sit down on the desk, crossing her legs slowly and purposefully. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "We should talk about it," she said.

"Talking..." he rubbed a hand over his face. "I suck at talking."

"I've noticed," she replied. "Yelling, now..._that_, you have down."

He had the decency to look ashamed. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that too."

"I know," she said quietly. "But I still don't understand why..."

He shook his head, standing up so that he was level with her face. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

He smiled a little, brushing the bangs off her forehead. "You need to let it come naturally. Don't rush it."

She turned her face into his palm instinctively, and he rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone affectionately. "I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of what? Me?" His hands moved down to her neck, sweeping the hair off her shoulders, winding it through his fingers.

"Yes." She closed her eyes at the sensation. "And no."

"What does that mean?"

"I..." she took in a sharp breath. "I don't know. This is so...surreal." She shook her head, opening her eyes. "Okay. Look, I'll try and let it come by itself, whatever it is. If you promise me something."

"Anything."

"Let me in," she pleaded softly. "I know you're involved in something big, I've noticed the bruises you've been hiding. You're up against something big, aren't you?"

He grinned. "How did I think you wouldn't notice?" She made a face at him. "But yeah, you're right," he admitted easily. "Her name is Klea, she's organizing the Underworld. She wants to be the new Source."

"Source?" Bianca asked, surprised. "There hasn't been a Source for years. Not since your aunts vanquished the Triad."

"I know," he said. "But she's been planning this for a long time. Since before my Aunt Prue died, even." She frowned. "Hey. I got it under control. Really."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Is that why you're favoring your left leg?" He flinched. "You fought something this morning, didn't you? You weren't limping last night."

"It was just a few trackers."

"Wait, tracker demons? She sent trackers after you? So she knows you're after her?" She shook her head. "Chris, why didn't you just go to the sisters with this? They could've helped."

Chris shook his head. "It's more complicated than that."

"Then explain it to me," she pleaded. "Please."

"I will."

"Oh really?"

"Bianca," he said. "Trust me."

"Last time I did that..." she trailed off, not letting herself voice the next ugly part of her sentence, unsure why she was suddenly so angry.

Chris smiled sadly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Then he stepped away from her, holding out a hand. "Come on," he said. "There's somebody I want you to meet."

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Thanks for all the reviews so far, guys. Feedback helps, it really does.


	4. Can't Seem To Trace What I'm Saying

Thanks for all the feedback so far. I'm sorry to say that the updates will be slowing down, for this week at least. The weekends are writing time, the rest of my days belong to school. But here's a slightly longer one to hold you over. :) Again, the dialogue from _Chris Crossed_ in the beginning isn't mine.

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**Can't Seem To Trace What I'm Saying**

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**xii. Albany, New York**

"_Look, I know the Charmed Ones." This is her little girl. Her little girl. _

"_The spell won't last long."_

"_It doesn't have to. Just long enough to distract them so I can get what I came for." Why does her voice soften like that? "Got it. Thanks." She's so beautiful. She's so...tragic. _

"_Wait, do you have to leave so soon? Can't I help?"_

_She stops and looks at her, and she looks so angry. "Yeah. Someday when I ask you what it feels like to kill, don't lie to me. Don't tell me you don't feel a thing." Oh no. No._

"_Bianca..."_

"Lynn." A voice greeted her and she looked up, shaking herself back into reality.

"Rachel." She stood up, kissing the older woman on the cheek. "Long time no see."

Rachel smiled coldly. "Let's skip this part. Why are you here?"

Lynn thought of the woman she saw long ago, the woman that her Bianca is slowly turning into. How that woman haunted her for so long, how she had to move halfway across the country to escape her memory. She steels herself. "It's Bianca."

Her sister raised an eyebrow. "What about her, Lynn? You abandoned the clan. You pulled her out of training."

"I know. That's not..." she shook her head. "She's dating a Charmed Son."

Rachel's eyes flickered. "What?" she hissed. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"I know," she hissed back. "That's not...I know."

"Don't you remember the prophecy at all?"

"I do!" Lynn said back angrily. "That's why I'm here."

Rachel crossed her arms. "What, you want us to clean up your mess? Again?"

Lynn flushed at the insult. "Something like that." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "I want you to take Bianca back into training."

"What?" Rachel looked confused. "Lynn, what would that possibly do?"

"Get her away from the Halliwells, for one," Lynn retorted. "Give her some direction, for another."

"Lynn...she's eighteen."

"I know."

"So it's her decision now. She's of age." Rachel shook her head, a small bit of genuine emotion leaking through her cold exterior. "She's my niece, and I do care for her, but I can't force her to come back unless she wants to."

"She'll want to," Lynn said forcefully. "Don't worry about that part of it. You just have to promise me that you'll let her do things her way. If she doesn't want to take human life, then you won't make her."

"Every Phoenix has that choice now," Rachel said. "Things have changed since you left, Lynn. There aren't many of us left who are willing to take mortal bounties."

"Still," Lynn insisted. "Promise me."

She sighed. "Fine. I promise." She regarded Lynn thoughtfully. "I hope you know what you're doing, Lynn."

"I do," she said. The image of her late husband flitted through her mind's eye, and she felt a wave of guilt. Her husband, whose only wish was for his daughter to be happy in her own skin. She pushed the thoughts away. "I do," she said again.

"I hope so." Rachel shook her head. "I'll be in touch."

She turned to leave, but Lynn called out and she stopped briefly. "Thank you," Lynn said.

Rachel nodded stiffly, then left the room in silence.

**xiii. The Bay Mirror**

Phoebe typed furiously, her glasses slipping down the point of her nose.

"Phoebe? Another stack of letters just arrived."

She barely registered her secretary's appearance, totally focused on the computer. "Set them over there," she said vaguely.

Annie, who actually worked for a temp agency, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Okay, Phoebe. Good luck with your column."

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, by the way, did you hear the news report on channel six this morning?" Annie grinned. "NASA brought Tom Cruise back to life!"

"Mm."

"He's planning on becoming the first Scientologist to orbit the moon."

Phoebe frowned and looked up briefly. "What'd you say about the moon?"

Annie hid her smirk. "Oh, I said I was running out to the Moon Cafe later on. Did you want anything?"

Phoebe gave a harried smile. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Anymore caffeine and I think I'll actually start moving forward in time."

"Okay. Good luck."

Phoebe was once again absorbed in her work, and mumbled a reply. Annie shut the door behind her, shaking her head. "Workaholics."

An hour and six letters later, Phoebe sat back in her chair with a sigh, rubbing at her neck. "I should really stop answering every letter," she muttered.

A faint magical jingle interrupted her train of thought. "Yes, you should."

She smiled, swiveling around in her chair. "Coop," she said. "Oh, you are a sight for sore, tired, overworked eyes." She jumped up, sliding his arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his.

Coop smiled down at her adoringly. "Hello to you too," he said. "But as wonderful as that greeting was, I'm actually here on business."

"Business?" Phoebe questioned. "What do you mean?"

Coop sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's strange, Pheebs. You know, I used to be able to bring a couple together in a couple weeks, but..." he frowned, shaking his head. "It isn't working. I haven't been able to get anyone together in months." Phoebe frowned, noticing for the first time how tired he looked. "There's just too much...negative energy. I can't get anyone to open up, to anything, no matter who they are."

She frowned. "You know, come to think of it, the letters I've been getting have been kind of negative, too." She shook her head. "What do you think is going on?"

"It could be nothing," he said. "It could be just a coincidence, or it could be something simple, like the tides, or the zodiac. They can affect people's dispositions." He shrugged. "But I wanted to look into it, just in case."

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll call Paige, see if she's heard anything."

He smiled, kissing her softly again. "Thank you."

"No problem," she murmured. She stepped closer to him, getting lost in his presence, once again.

"Phoebe, Elise just sent me a fax from Pasadena, she wants you to..." Annie came into the office, jabbering, stopping short when she saw Phoebe and Coop kissing. "Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered. "I—I didn't see anyone come in..."

Phoebe pulled away. "It's okay, Annie."

"I should've knocked, I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, no, really. It's okay. By the way, I don't think you've met my husband yet," she said. "This is Coop. Coop, this is my temporary receptionist, Annie."

Coop smiled and walked around the desk, offering his hand to shake. "Hello, Annie," he said. "Sorry about that."

She shook his hand, blushing. "No, I'm sorry." She laughed nervously. "Great first impression, huh?"

Coop grinned. "Don't worry, I don't think Phoebe will hold it against you." He shot a look at Phoebe, who shot him a look right back.

Annie laughed. "Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you." She turned to Phoebe, handing her the fax. "Elise wanted to remind you about the quarterly finance meeting tomorrow," she said.

"Thanks," Phoebe said, taking the fax.

"Sure," Annie said. "Well, I'll, uh...you know, leave you to it." She blushed again, turning away and escaping the office.

As soon as she was gone, Phoebe laughed. "She's a sweetie."

"Yeah," Coop said. "She's also in love with her neighbor."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "I thought your powers were off," she teased.

"Hey, I said I couldn't get people together, I never said I couldn't sense their feelings," he said, holding up his hands.

Phoebe grinned. "Okay," she said. She moved around to the desk, kissing him again briefly. "Paige and I will look into this, I promise."

"Good," he said gratefully. "It's not affecting anything big right now, but if it continues...it could be bad."

"I know," she said softly. "We'll take care of it."

"You always do." He smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd find some other dashingly attractive witch to marry, probably," she teased. She kissed him again, smiling. "Go on, get outta here. I got work to do." She moved back to her chair. "But use the door! Annie, remember?"

"I know," he said, chuckling. "See you at home."

Home. She felt a little thrill. "Yup. Home."

**xiv. The Underworld**

Klea paced her chambers anxiously, glaring at the scrying pool. She had not been able to see the Charmed Son since the previous night, something that both worried and angered her.

"Madam?"

She whirled to face the intruder. "What?" she snapped.

It was Torvald, one of the upper level demons that made up her cabinet. "Sorry to disturb you, Madam, but the trackers have just returned from their mission."

"Well? Do they have him?" she demanded.

"No," he replied. "In fact, there are only two that escaped, and one of them is badly injured."

She cursed. "Did they find him, at least?"

"Yes," Torvald said. "But it seems as if he was ready for them."

"Didn't he have any help?" Klea said. "I sent nine of them out, surely he couldn't have killed seven of them by himself."

"That's what they say," Torvald said. "It seems as if this boy is more powerful than we figured."

Klea cursed. "No kidding." She frowned in thought. "Kill the survivors. Then gather the cabinet. We need a new plan."

Torvald nodded, bowing in respect. "As you wish, madam." He exited the chamber.

Klea stood there, lost in thought for a few moment. Then she moved to the scrying pool, once more trying to conjure the Charmed Son's image.

After concentrating for several minutes, finally, an image appeared in the liquid. She leaned in closer, watching until the image cleared. But instead of the brunette teenager's visage, it showed a blond boy. She cursed in frustration. "I meant the younger one," she growled. She watched with little interest as the image of the twice-blessed sat in a living room of a house, talking with a redheaded mortal girl.

She turned away in frustration, shimmering away to find something to take her tension out on. Because of that, she didn't see the warlock shimmer into the image, behind the redhead's back.

The tiny scream from the pool echoed in the now empty chamber.

**xv. St. Louis, Missouri**

"_Where_ are we?" Bianca asked incredulously.

"St. Louis," Chris repeated again. "Did you not hear me?" he asked innocently.

"I heard you," she replied. "By the way, could you warn me before orbing off again? I nearly fell."

"My apologies, milady," he replied. "Far be it for you to stain your slutty dress."

She looked down at the short blue skirt she was wearing. "This isn't slutty," she protested.

"Sure it isn't."

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. "Stop that."

He grinned. "Stop what?"

"Ah!" She smacked him. "You suck."

"Only if you ask nicely," he shot back. She blushed, and he laughed. "Come on."

He grabbed her hand, leading her out of the alleyway where they had orbed in. She followed grumpily. "Don't think I'm not still angry," she said sourly.

"I wouldn't dare," he said sarcastically. "Come on. It's not far from here."

"What's not far?" He stayed infuriatingly silent, and she huffed, struggling to keep up with his stride. "You know, you're not really inspiring much trust here," she said.

"Yeah, well, your sudden crappy mood isn't inspiring me to volunteer information," he snapped, but the slight quirk of his mouth told her that he was amused.

She valiantly fought the urge to sulk. "Whatever. Can't we just orb to wherever it is directly?"

He shook his head. "I put up anti-travel wards. No one can orb, shimmer, blink, or otherwise within a five hundred foot radius of the apartment."

She was still struggling to keep up with him, while he kept a hold of her hand, rushing her along. She found it absolutely mind boggling that he could still walk so fast on an injured leg. "So it's an apartment?" He nodded. "Well, that's something," she muttered. "How can you afford to rent an apartment? And why do you have one in St. Louis, of all places?"

"It's not mine," he replied. "It's my grandpa's. He used to live here before he moved back to San Francisco. He started renting it out when he moved, but there hasn't been anyone there for a year. He lets me use it."

"Why? For what?" She frowned. "Does he know what's going on?"

"Some of it," he replied vaguely.

She snapped her mouth shut, resisting the urge to snap again. "Fine. I get it."

They walked in silence for a few blocks, before Chris stopped in front of an apartment building. "Here it is," he said. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, holding it open for her. She walked through and was greeted by a surprisingly nice lobby. Chris grabbed her hand again, and she threw him a look, but he avoided her eye.

"Ah, hello again, John." Bianca looked over to see a security guard sitting at the desk, smiling.

"Hey Curtis," Chris greeted, and Bianca frowned. John? "Everything okay?"

"Yup," the man replied. He was in his mid fifties, and had a round, open face. "Your uncle's been just fine, no problems at all."

Uncle?

Chris smiled. "Good." He pulled Bianca over to the desk. "Curtis, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Bianca. Bee, this is Curtis."

Bee? She shook the man's hand numbly, not knowing what else to do. "Hello."

The man smiled kindly at her, and she smiled back, unable to help herself. "Well, finally, I get to meet the girl who has this boy so preoccupied all the time."

Bianca's smile widened. "Well, someone has to keep him from getting too uptight."

"Too true." Curtis chuckled. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she said, liking him despite herself.

Chris cut in. "She's gonna be helping me with the upkeep for awhile," he said. "Do you think you could get her a key?"

"Sure thing, Johnny. I'll have to send out for it, but you can pick it up tomorrow."

"Thanks." He took Bianca's hand again, pulling her towards the elevators. "We better go on up. We'll see you later, Curtis."

Curtis waved jovially. "Again, it was nice to meet you, Bianca."

"Yeah, you too," she called out, already being pulled away.

When the elevator doors were safely closed, she turned to him, smirking. "Johnny?"

"I couldn't use my real name. John was the first thing I thought of." He shrugged.

"What's your fake last name? Doe?"

"Nope," he said. "Turner. John Turner." He saw her expression of distaste and smirked. "What would you want me to have as an alias, Dodger Halliwell?"

She stopped short, her breath catching in shock. When she was little, her father used to read Oliver Twist to her, and for a long time, she'd entertained the fantasy of dropping inside the novel and saving the snarky pickpocket character, running away and living out a childhood happy after with fictional Dodger. "Do...do you..." she crossed her arms nervously. "How do you know about that?"

"About what, your childhood crush? You shouldn't feel bad, I used to have a crush on the chick from Lizzie McGuire when I was a kid." He grinned. "Don't sweat it, Bee."

She frowned, knowing that he wasn't going to give anything away. Feeling kind of creeped, she struggled to get back into the flow of the banter. "I still say your creativity is lacking," she said shakily. "And, call me 'Bee' again, and I'll break your other leg."

He chuckled. "Would you prefer Binky?"

She glared. "No," she said flatly.

"Fine. But you have to admit, Bianca is a bit of a mouthful." He grinned, fully aware of how dirty his statement sounded.

"Deal with it," she snapped, refusing to blush again. The doors opened and she exited the small space gratefully, turning around and staring at him. "You coming or not?" she asked.

He chuckled again, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I guess I'll just stick to 'baby,'" he said quietly. She gave him another searching look, but he ignored her, pulling her down the hallway. They stopped in front of a door marked 7E, and he unlocked it the same key, pulling the door open for her again. "This is it."

She walked through the doorway into a shady foyer, the lights dim. Chris stepped in behind her. "So, who is it that you wanted me to meet?" she said, her voice hushing instinctively in the dark hallway.

"This way," he said quietly, leading her through a small, neat living room and through another door to what was obviously a bedroom.

She tiptoed in, peering at the bed. A man was asleep, dark circles were deep beneath his eyes. His hair was dark and shaggy, and stubble lined his strong jaw. He was built solidly, but he was also thin and pale. Bianca studied his face, feeling that fierce, floaty feeling of deja vu that had been resurfacing quite frequently these days.

"Do you know who he is?" Chris asked quietly.

She frowned. "I think so," she whispered back. "I know I've seen him before."

She heard the whisperings of voices in her head again, and she squinted her eyes shut, forcing herself not to fight it. Let it come, she told herself. Don't fight it.

**xvi. Memory**

_Bianca ducked behind a table, wincing as a bookcase near her exploded in a ball of fire. _

"_Come out, you bitch!" came the enraged voice. "What kind of coward are you? You betray me and won't even stand to fight me?"_

"_Go to hell, Wyatt!" she yelled, throwing an energy ball over the edge of the table in his general direction, a stalling technique. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was bad. She leaned against the overturned table heavily, examining the burn wound on her thigh. She winced in pain._

"_You first!" Another explosion, this time a clothing trunk, less than two feet away from her. She jumped, cursing._

_She tried to shimmer, but the wards held her in. "Fuck," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly, wishing she was somewhere—anywhere else but here. Gathering her courage, she used all her strength to launch herself up, aiming an energy ball directly for Wyatt. She collapsed back down on the floor, but she heard his cry of pain and knew she'd hit him. Good, this bought her some time._

_A soft sound that she knew was someone shimmering in echoed in her ears. Her eyes flew open and she tensed, thinking it was one of Wyatt's demons, but thankfully, it was a friendly face. "Cole!"_

"_Hurry," he said. "Chris is holding the wards open. We gotta go."_

_She motioned to her leg, struggling for speech, completely out of energy. "Can't stand."_

_His brow furrowed as he saw the wound. "Hell," he muttered. "This looks bad." He peeled the leather away from the skin gently, giving her an apologetic look at her wince. "You need a Whitelighter."_

"_Cole," she whispered. "Wyatt. He slipped me...weakening potion," she slurred. She felt the lethargy creeping up on her, the edges of her vision turning fuzzy and black._

"_Bianca? Bianca, focus. Stay awake." Her eyelids drooped and her breath quickened.  
_

"_Can't shimmer," she mumbled._

"_Okay, okay." He shot a look at Wyatt, across the attic, on the ground, moaning in pain. It wouldn't be long until he got control of himself and recovered. Making a quick decision, he scooped the petite woman up in his arms, carefully handling her leg, mindful of her injury._

"_Chris?" she moaned._

"_Close," he said. "Cole."_

"_Chris..." she murmured, obviously half-unconscious. _

_He held her tighter. "I'll take you to him. Just hold on," he said, shooting a look at Wyatt, who was slowly rising. "Everything's okay."_

_He shimmered out, barely missing the energy ball thrown his way by Wyatt._

**xvii. Back in St. Louis**

"Bianca...Bianca?" Chris's voice seemed very far away.

"Chris..."

"I'm here, baby." She frowned, slowly coming back to herself, hearing Chris's soft voice, very near. "Bianca? Open your eyes, sweetheart."

She squinted, her eyelids fluttering open. She saw Chris, hovering over her, and realized she was laying on a couch. "Chris?" She sat up slowly, aided by him, seeing that he'd moved her to the living room. "What happened?"

He frowned. "You collapsed," he said. "Did you...uh, remember something?"

She nodded, staring at the now closed bedroom door. "That's Belthazor," she said, a slight note of amazement in her voice.

At this, Chris smirked. "He prefers Cole, actually."

"Right, I knew that, I..." she trailed off. "He saved me."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "That's what you remembered?"

"Yeah," she said, confused. "I was in the attic at the Manor, fighting...Wyatt." She said her boyfriend's name with no small amount of surprise. "Cole shimmered in and got me out of there."

Chris nodded. "Oh yeah. That."

"You know...?"

He shifted uneasily. "Yeah."

"How? I mean, you already have all these memories, don't you? I mean, they're real. Right?"

"Of course they're real," he said. "And yes."

"How?"

"I..." he looked apologetic. "I can't tell you, I'm sorry."

"Why not?" she demanded. "I mean, you have to realize how this is all kind of overwhelming, not to mention freaky, for me. I mean, I'm having weird flashbacks of horrible things, I'm suddenly cheating on my boyfriend with his _brother_, and now I suddenly recognize demons that are supposed to be _dead_," to her chagrin, she felt tears prick at her eyes. "I don't understand anything that's going on, Chris!"

He looked alarmed, rubbing her arms in a soothing gesture. "Hey, hey. Don't get upset. I know it's scary, believe me. I was where you are, remember? Three years ago."

"You did this?" she asked. "You remembered..." an epiphany appeared. "That's why you started pulling away, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said. "I...I dunno. I thought I was going crazy, for awhile. I didn't tell my family, because...well, you know how they are. They probably would've taken me to the Elders or something, or at least tried to get rid of all the memories."

"You didn't want to get rid of them?"

"No," he said. "It's...I'm not gonna lie to you, Bianca, a lot of it is terrible. Scary and horrible and painful, and pretty much the definition of your worst nightmare, but...there are a lot of good moments, too."

"_We're gonna make it, baby."_

Her gaze turned soft. "Yeah," she said, surprised to find that her voice was hoarse. "Yeah, I get that."

"Yeah." He looked at her, a wealth of depth and emotion in his eyes. "And besides, it helped me a lot. It was overwhelming, yeah, but it gave me a much needed reality check. I know a lot more about life than I probably should, but...it helps me."

"So you got these weird flashbacks, too? And those little facts that would just appear in your head?"

He nodded. "Mine weren't as violent as yours are, I see. I never passed out. Mostly they came while I was sleeping." He shrugged. "For awhile it was hard to hide it, especially from Leo. He kept wondering why I suddenly knew all these things about his marriage and his past. I had to really watch what I said—I still do." He smiled a little. "But yeah, it was weird, knowing all this stuff for no apparent reason, all at once."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff like how to cloak an apartment from Elders and demons alike," he said meaningfully. "And how Leo became an Elder, and why he and my mom divorced. Stuff about my aunts, too, about their relationships and personal lives, and...you know. Lots of things about demon hunting, too, I became a much better potion maker." He cleared his throat. "Stuff about you, too." Her breath quickened. "About your life, and...domestic stuff, like how you take your coffee and that you hog the covers. And..."

"That I had a crush on Dodger when I was little," she supplied quietly. He nodded. "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"I..." she shook her head. "This is so surreal."

"I know." He tucked some of her hair behind her ear in a tender gesture. "Trust me, just let it come. It's easier."

"I did that with this last one. It felt easier." She smiled ruefully. "I think the only reason I passed out was because I lost consciousness in the dream...the memory, I mean."

He nodded. "Makes sense."

She took a deep breath. "Chris, I need..." she grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "I need you to be honest with me. I know there are things you can't tell me yet, for whatever reason, like where these memories come from, and why I'm remembering them, but..." her breath hitched. "It's not just the...memory me that cares about you," she said. "I loved you in this lifetime, too."

He looked down. "I'm sorry," he said again. "For pushing you away. It was just...it was too much, and I suddenly remembered all this stuff about you, and you didn't remember back, and I just..."

"I know," she said. She felt the tears creeping up in her throat. "I get it. I don't like it, but I understand." She reached a shaky hand up to his face, running her fingers over the rough skin of his cheek. "Chris, I need you to tell me the truth, whenever you can, okay? I get that you can't tell me everything, but the things that you can..." she swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. "No more games, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded, and pulled her closer, wrapping her thin frame in his arms. "No more games. I promise."

She inhaled his scent, already feeling his presence calming her down. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"Anything for you."

00


	5. We Left Before We Had To Go

00

**We Left Before We Had To Go**

00

**iixx. Jacqui's House**

"It was a mistake."

Wyatt fidgeted, playing with his hands nervously. "I know."

"Bianca's my best friend. And you're with her."

"And you're with Ian. He's my friend, too."

Jacqui shook her head, looking down at her lap. "It can't happen again."

"Right." He swallowed hard. "It was just the booze, anyway."

She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing down the denial. "Right."

"And..." he trailed off, looking at something behind her. "Duck."

"What?"

"Duck!" He pushed her out of the way, using his weight to propel her to the ground, barely missing the athame that came flying through the air.

He jumped up, turning to face the warlock, snarling in the corner of the room. "What do you want?" he demanded.

The warlock sneered, casting a look at a frightened Jacqui, who was still on the ground, looking up with wide eyes. "Perry," it hissed.

Wyatt's eyes widened. "Bianca," he whispered.

The warlock threw an energy ball at Jacqui, but Wyatt flung out his hand, calling his shield. The energy ball bounced off the wall of brilliant blue energy and rebounded on the warlock, and he exploded in flames.

After a few moments, Wyatt lowered the shield, took a deep breath and turned to face Jacqui, who was staring in horror at the place where the warlock had been standing, a huge scorch mark now the only evidence. "Wha...what was that?"

Wyatt sighed. "I'll explain later." He bent down and helped her off the floor, sitting her on the couch. She looked shaky and pale.

"It...it wanted to kill me?" she asked.

"No," he said. _It wanted Bianca_, he thought, and felt an even more powerful wave of guilt wash over him. "It thought you were someone else." His mind raced. Warlocks sometimes had the power to turn invisible, this one must have seen him and Jacqui last night, and assumed that she was Bianca...God.

"I...I don't understand..."

"Don't try to," he said gently. "I promise I'll explain everything later, but I have to go right now. I'm gonna take you to the Manor, and I need you to stay there, okay?"

"The Manor? Why?"

"There may be...more," he said. "And the Manor is...protected. Just trust me."

She frowned. "Okay. But you didn't take your car. Are we gonna just...take the bus, when we've got...more of those things after us?"

He smiled grimly. "No," he said. "We're not taking the bus."

**ixx. Up There**

Leo frowned. "What did you say?"

"I said I can't find him," Brooke replied. "I tried sensing, I orbed to all his hang outs, but he's just...disappeared. Bianca, too."

Leo sighed, rubbing his temples. "I don't have time for this, Brooke." He shrugged. "He probably just went out with friends, or something. And Bianca could just be a coincidence."

Brooke frowned, stomping her foot petulantly. "I don't care if you don't have time for this, even though you _should_ make time for your _son_," she said pointedly. "Something's wrong. I can feel..."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "You can feel his emotions now? I thought he was too powerful for that."

"He is," she said. "But when he's really upset, or caught off his guard, I get flashes."

"Is he in pain?" Leo asked, his fatherly instincts catching up to him.

"No, not exactly," Brooke replied. "Just...worried? Dreading...something. I dunno. Something's happening."

Leo shook his head. "Brooke, if he's not in mortal danger..."

"He's not yet!" Brooke said heatedly. "Look, I know you're busy. I get it, I do. And I know that you had a hard time after your ex-wife's death, but..."

"Don't you think that's a little personal?" Leo snapped.

Brooke raised an eyebrow. "But," she went on, ignoring him. "Treating him like a child isn't going to do anything but make him angry. And you're gaining nothing by keeping things from him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that no secret lasts forever. Sooner or later, he's going to find out about the prophecy, and when he finds out that you knew and didn't tell him?" Brooke shook her head mournfully. "You're gonna lose him, Leo."

Leo inhaled sharply. "That won't happen." Not again, he said silently.

"It will," she insisted. "You need to step up and start acting like his father, not his boss." She raised an eyebrow. "And the whole favoring Wyatt on purpose thing isn't helping anything either."

"Look, I assigned you to Chris because you're the only Whitelighter I have who's as stubborn as he is," Leo said, anger creeping into his tone. "And I'm glad that you've become his friend, really. I know you care about him, and he about you. But Brooke, do not tell me how to raise my son." Everything about his tone marked that he was dead serious.

Brooke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Fine. Don't get your robes in a bunch. But there's still the problem of _where he is_."

"He's only been gone for a few hours," Leo replied. "If you start to feel his pain—real pain, then talk to me."

Brooke rolled her eyes. Just when he started to act decently, his inner jerk started to show through. Wyatt took after him in that way.

Leo stiffened suddenly. "Wyatt's orbing up here," he said urgently. "Get out, he can't know who you are."

"Oh yeah, that's another thing. Why can't I just tell him that I'm a Whitelighter, again? It gets really tiring trying to remember what not to talk about and—"

"Brooke!"

"Fine, fine." She rolled her eyes and disappeared in a swirl of orbs, the bright blue particles barely disappearing before a harried looking Wyatt Halliwell materialized in the same spot that Brooke had just vacated.

"Dad! Thank God."

Leo frowned. "What's wrong, Wyatt? I could sense your tension from all the way up here."

"Dad, Bianca's in trouble."

Leo paused, taken aback. "What? What do you mean?"

"Jacqui and I were just attacked--"

"Wait, Jacqui? Who's Jacqui?"

"She's a friend," Wyatt replied impatiently. "But Dad, that's not the point, I--"

"Is she mortal?"

Wyatt stopped. "Well, no," he admitted.

"And did you explain to her what was going on? Or did you rush up here based on a hunch?"

"It's not a hunch!" Wyatt shot back angrily. "That warlock said her name."

"He said, 'Bianca Perry'?"

"No," Wyatt said. "He said...'Perry.' But that is her name, Dad, it's her last name."

Leo shook his head. "Wyatt, go back down there and explain to that Jacqui girl what's going on."

"But Dad--"

"But nothing," Leo said firmly. "I can't believe you would just leave her alone after being attacked, for God's sake. She's probably scared out of her mind."

"She's fine, she's...she's a strong person," Wyatt protested.

"Oh come on," Leo said. "Just get down there and make sure she's okay. And until you get concrete proof that Bianca's in trouble, don't come back."

"Dad," Wyatt said. "It said her name."

"Her last name. Did you forget that Bianca has a large and extended family? Or that 'Perry' is actually a very common name? And you vanquished the warlock, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Wyatt said. "But..."

"So there you go. Now go back to Jacqui."

Wyatt sighed, acknowledging that his father wasn't budging. "Fine," he grumbled, orbing out. As soon as he was gone, Leo dropped his regal Elder stance and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

It had been a very long day.

**xx. Victor/Chris/Cole's Apartment**

"So you never got around to telling me how Cole is alive," Bianca said. She was sitting with her back against the fridge in the small kitchenette, Chris sitting across from her. An open pizza box was on the floor between them, half the food already demolished.

Chris chewed slowly, his face thoughtful. "It's kind of complicated."

"Try me."

He swallowed. "Okay." He threw the rest of his slice aside, wiping his hands. "You know his history, right?"

Bianca nodded. "Demon, then reformed demon, then human, then the Source, then dead, then demon again, then an Avatar, then dead again," she rattled off.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "How the hell do you remember that? I can't even keep it straight."

Bianca grinned. "It was on a test I took once," she said. "History of the Charmed Ones. It was the midterm. I got a B."

"They gave you _tests_ on us?"

"Yup," Bianca replied, nonplussed. "Phoenix training was very extensive."

"Obviously." Chris shuddered. "I'm sorry, but thinking of a bunch of cold, bloodthirsty women taking tests on my childhood is kind of creepy."

"Tell me about it," Bianca muttered. "So. Cole."

Chris shook his head. "Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, when he died...well, died for the final time, anyway, it was in a very unusual way, right? It didn't even technically happen in our world, it was in the alternate dimension that he created, where he could be with Phoebe."

She nodded. "The wish world," she said. "The only way he could've been killed, since he was indestructible normally."

"Yeah. Well, it was partly because of that, and partly because of his history that when he did die, the Powers That Be didn't know what to do with his soul."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was an innocent once," Chris explained. "But he was also the Source. He was both the ultimate good and the ultimate evil. And while everybody he saved when he was good didn't make up for all that he killed when he was evil, it did muddy up his balance sheet enough so that they couldn't justify sending him to either Heaven or Hell after his death. So they stuck him in purgatory."

"The spirit plane?" Bianca asked.

"Yeah." Chris shrugged. "Bound to the Manor, actually. He was supposed to wait there until he atoned enough for the Powers to send him to Heaven."

She nodded, understanding dawning. "Bound to the Manor, so that he had to watch Phoebe live her life without him, marry someone else, have children..." she trailed off.

Chris nodded. "Exactly. Creative, huh?"

She shook her head, feeling goosebumps pop up on her arms. "So how'd he get out?"

"Well, that's where I came in." His eyes darkened. "I told you that I started... remembering things, three years ago." He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word carefully. "There was one night, when it got to be...it was bad." He swallowed. "I subconsciously summoned him."

"What? How did you do that?"

"I don't know, exactly," he said. "I guess it was sort of how Phoebe and Paige can summon Grams when they need help, or how Leo can summon his father. I didn't mean to, it just happened. I woke up and he was standing there, over my bed."

Bianca's voice lowered, as if this were the sort of subject that deserved whispering. "What happened?"

**xxi. What Happened**

"_Powers of witches rise, come to me across the skies, return my magic, give me back, all those taken from the attack."_

_A blue light washed over his body, and through the haze he saw his brother's face contort in anger. He turned around and kicked Bianca in the stomach, sending her flying across the room._

"_No!" Power flooded through his veins and exploded. "Bianca. No, no, no, no..."_

_Chris woke with a jolt, terror making his heart pound in his chest. He shot up in bed, breathing heavily. He moved to rest his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his shaky hands._

"_That looked like a bad one."_

_Chris jumped in surprise, jerking his head up to see a shadowed figure, hunched over by his bedroom window. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I'm...a friend, Chris. And as for what I'm doing here...well, I was hoping you could tell me."_

_He moved forward, the dim light from the street lamp outside illuminating his face. Chris sucked in a sharp breath, recognizing him. "Belthazor."_

"_Cole," he corrected. _

"_How did you get here? You're supposed to be dead."_

"_I have no clue, kid." He looked as if he was about to say more, but suddenly swayed on his feet. "Shit." He hunched over, his face contorting in pain._

_Unsure of what to do, Chris moved over hesitatingly, laying a cautious hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with you?"_

"_I don't..." Cole broke off as another wave of pain washed over him. "My magic," he gasped._

_And then, before Chris's confused eyes, he collapsed._

**xxii. Back At the Apartment**

"What was wrong with him?"

"We don't know, exactly," he replied. "Ever since he was brought back, he goes through this periodic cycle of pain and weakness—I've spoken to some healers, a few soothsayers, people like that—they all seem to think it has something to do with his magic. Whenever it happens it always matches up to the solstice."

"The cycle of nature is tied to the cycle of magic," Bianca murmured thoughtfully. "Do you think it could be a curse?"

"I know it's a curse," Chris replied. "From Klea. She's trying to root him out."

"Why would Klea curse Cole? Does she even know that he's alive?"

Chris sighed. "Well, it's a long story, but...you know that Cole, as a demon, was a part of the Brotherhood of Demons?" Bianca nodded. "When Raynor and Raneburn were vanquished back in the nineties, Klea was the demon next on the hierarchy for leader. Except by then, most of the demons had been either killed or scared away by the Charmed Ones."

Bianca nodded. "So she went into hiding," she deduced. "She hid out, gathering power under the radar, waiting for the right time to grab hold again."

"Yeah. She wants not only to be Source, but also to grab control of the human world, as well."

Bianca looked alarmed. "What, like..."

Wyatt's name went unsaid. "No, not like that. More subtle than that. At the end of the twentieth century, there were a lot of demons in the corporate world, as well as the government—you'd be surprised how far their reaches went. They were all eventually eradicated, through some of the more hasty and dramatic things that were done to the world with the help of the Cleaners and the Avatars—but the point is, it's mostly in human hands now. Klea wants to change that, she's been working on getting demons back into influential spots for the past ten years or so." Chris sighed. "I haven't been able to identify all her followers yet, but Cole and I were able to pick out a few. Senator Greibel, for instance, of California, is an upper level demon. And the CEO of Initech Corporation, Manuella Rodriguez, is a warlock."

"Wow."

"Yeah. But the problem is that Klea can't actually take control of both worlds at the same time without help. She uses mind control and suggestion spells—that's how she was able to get Greibel elected, by using mass magic on the population—kind of like pheromones, just a subtle push in the right direction, enough to make enough people vote for the right candidate. She doesn't have enough power to do that very often, though, which is why she needs Cole."

"That makes sense. He had enough power before he was interred in the Demon Wasteland to take control of the entire city. Who knows how much he has now?" Bianca frowned. "Which brings me to my next concern. How do you know he's not evil, again?"

Chris shrugged. "The same way I knew you weren't evil?"

She raised her eyebrows. "How was that, by the way?"

"I don't know. I could feel it." At her skeptical look, he grinned a little. "C'mon, I'm the nephew of an empath, how do you think I knew? Besides, I have enough 'other memories' of Cole to know what his true intentions were. And you forget that he and I have been working together to bring down Klea for the last three years."

"You've been working together?" Bianca asked. "Are you two...close?"

He paused. "I guess, yeah. He...he was tied to the Manor, remember? He watched me grow up. He knows practically everything about me, and..." Chris trailed off, his eyes moving to the bedroom door. "He understands. He's got this way about him...he's very smart and very perceptive, and he thinks everything through before he does anything. He's fair too—he just doesn't rush to snap judgments like the aunts and Leo do."

"Sounds nice." Bianca sighed. "I could see why you would want to be around someone like that."

"Yeah." Chris brushed the crumbs off his jeans, standing up. "C'mon. We better get back to San Francisco before your mom sends out a search party." He held out a hand to help her up.

Bianca accepted it. "Okay."

Chris dumped the pizza box in the trash. "Curtis will have your key tomorrow, so after that you can come and check up on him whenever you like. He'll wake up sometime this weekend, I think, so I can introduce you then, and you can come talk to him whenever you want to."

Bianca frowned. "Yeah. About that. Um, not to be a spoilsport or anything, but...why, exactly?"

Chris quirked an eyebrow at her. "Because we need your help."

"Why?" Bianca asked, perplexed. "I mean, I'm not very powerful, beyond the basic Phoenix powers, and I'm only half trained."

"Your training's up here," Chris said, tapping her temple. "Remember?"

"Right." Bianca shook her head, unconvinced.

"Hey, you never know," Chris said, smiling obtusely. "You may be more important than you think."

00

A little shorter, but the best I could do. My muse has hippity hopped back to Degrassi, once again. No worries, though, I've got a pretty good handle on where to take this story next.


	6. Instrument Of Your Peace

Jacqui IS a mortal. Brooke IS a Whitelighter. As for Cole, he goes through 'high' and 'low' periods of health, all connected to his magic. Right now he's unconscious, in the midst of a 'low' period, though you'll see him out of it soon.

I think I answered all the questions. Right? Feel free to ask more.

00

**Instrument Of Your Peace**

00

**xxiii. Magic School**

_This can't be good. I mean, it could be good, but the majority of it seems more not-good than good…this can't be good._

Paige sat at her large desk, her notebook in her hands. She'd spent the last four hours researching the Relics' visions with Carrie, going through numerous old tomes, trying to decipher the meaning behind the mysterious images. She had taken notes on each small vision and had even jotted down more books to look up for more information, but despite that, Paige felt more in the dark than ever. _How did Grace do this for her entire life?_ she wondered. _Or are these even the types of things that she saw? Was it clearer for her because the Relics chose Grace as the one to show these visions to? Are the ones we've just seen more vague because they were available to be seen by anyone?_

She sighed, running down her list of bullet points. She had to figure this out, she just _had_ to.

The first vision. An explosion. Obviously a warning of some sort, a caution of a battle, or a fight. It could also be symbolic, a sign of discontent, of a verbal fight or emotional turmoil. From her studies in dream and vision interpretation, Paige knew that an explosion also signified repressed feelings coming to the surface in a violent manner. None of these explanations were comforting.

Next, the view of a village from the sky. This one was harder – what do villages represent? A small town, small town minds, small people – restrictions, rules, simplicity, tradition. Maybe it was even an actual place that held some relevance, but what relevance could a small group of houses in the mountains have? Could it be the location of something else important? She shook her head, torn.

The next vision – a graveyard, with the two shadowy figures. This vision, being more substantial than the previous two, seemed more solid occurrence, showing actual events rather than symbolic pictures. She had no idea what it could mean, or even if it was even showing past or future. The graveyard part wasn't promising either; graveyards in dreams usually represented lost parts of a person, the pieces of a heart discarded.

The Grimoire vision, however, was clearer – clearer than the others, at least. There was a demon coming from an old family, who was soon to come into play. Paige could plainly see that. The athame would also indicate that, though athames could also be indicators of good magic. She also knew that those two specific objects were deadly familiar to her, though she couldn't figure out from where, even after hours of wracking her brain. Either way, the two together seemed to be indicators of a fight.

Then, the one vision that had Paige a thread away from collapsing into a pile of nerves. Chris.

Chris Perry, to be specific, the version of Chris that they all thought was dead. Or as dead as someone who never really belonged in the world could be, an interloper out of space and time.

Paige couldn't be sure what the flash of him meant, neither could she decide how she felt about it. The memory of Chris bleeding to death before her eyes had stuck with her more than anything else ever had, including even Piper's death a few years before. And if she were being honest with herself then she knew that Wyatt's fate hadn't been the only one changed during their year with Chris Perry. A lot more than just her dedication to her nephews had been decided that day.

Her head fell forward into her hands, voices and memories flashing through her head. With a few deep breaths, she regained control of her emotions, turning back to her list, the last and final vision that had Paige's blood running cold.

Cole Turner.

A few weeks earlier, Paige had heard rumors from her contacts in the magical world that Belthazor had returned, and the news had thrown the Halliwell house into a frenzy – Phoebe's section of it, specifically. But when no more information – or attacks – had come, everything had settled down, and Paige had attributed it to false rumors, wishful thinking on the part of the demonic community. This vision, however, indicated otherwise.

What if the reason why Cole hadn't shown up at the Manor wasn't because he was still dead, but because he couldn't, for some reason? The vision had shown him unconscious, in a bed surrounded by medical equipment. What if someone was taking care of him, nurturing him back to health from whatever he'd been through in the near twenty years he'd been – supposedly – dead? What if, at this very moment, he was planning to attack the Halliwells, take revenge for what they'd taken away from him all those years ago – several times?

Well, if that was the case, then they'd just have to send his sorry ass back to Hell again. They could do it, they'd done it before, right?

Still, this unnerved Paige more than anything had for a decade. What did it take to get this guy to _die_? And if he'd survived this time, the time when they finally thought that it was permanent, _could_ they even kill him again, especially now that they were without the Power of Three?

She took a deep breath, closing her notebook with a snap. She couldn't spend all her time worrying, she had to take this to Phoebe and Leo. She quickly gathered up her things, readying to leave, when a thought struck her. She couldn't tell Phoebe, not when she wasn't sure – her sister had been nervous enough at the rumors of Cole's resurrection and she'd just recently calmed down again, how would she react when Paige brought her what seemed like proof that her ex-husband was indeed back from the dead?

No, she had to tell her. Phoebe would be even more pissed off when she did find out that Paige hid it from her.

_But she and Coop are doing so well..._ Paige grunted in frustration, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder. Either way, she was late for dinner.

She threw a wave at her secretary, heading back for the portal door that opened up into the Manor's stairwell. She was looking down, zipping up her bag when she bumped into someone, propelling back several feet.

"Hey, watch it…" Paige trailed off when she saw just who she'd collided with. "Chris!"

Chris looked tired, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes rumpled. He sighed, his face taking on a bored, blank expression. "Hey, Paige."

"What are you doing here?" Paige asked.

Chris considered her for a moment, and she felt an ominous shiver. Then something in his face flickered, and he shrugged. "I heard about the Relics, I wanted to check them out."

"You…you heard about the Relics?" Paige stuttered out. "How?"

"Bebe Nevins isn't exactly known for her tact," he replied dryly. "She's been talking as fast as her mouth lets her."

Paige cursed under her breath, vowing to have a nice grilling session with Bebe as soon as she got the chance. "Well, the Dungeon's been closed off," she said succinctly. "I had meant to keep this a secret, but…" she rolled her eyes. "Still. No one's allowed in but the guard." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do you want to see them, anyway?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Curious."

She looked at him strangely for another moment, perturbed. Chris had a habit of getting in over his head with magical situations, something that had Leo prohibiting him from chasing after demons without Wyatt or one of the adults present. Paige had her suspicions about Chris's obedience to that particular rule, but it didn't seem as if he were up to anything right then.

"All right. It's almost time for dinner, anyway. Let's just get outta here."

She expected him to protest, but he merely turned his back and headed towards the portal door. She jogged a bit to keep up with his large strides, eyeing him in profile.

Chris Halliwell was, in many ways, very different than Chris Perry. Having the advantage of growing up in a peaceful world without a murderous dictator of an older brother, Chris was very much a normal teenager – or at least Paige thought he was. He rarely spent time at the Manor, choosing instead to venture out to mysterious locations with 'friends,' something that Paige suspected was a cover for demon hunting. But he'd never slipped up, and was way too smart to be caught in a lie, and she'd never been able to figure out where or what he was doing.

But there were times when Paige had to take a second look at her youngest nephew to dismiss the image of his older, world-wearier counterpart. There were just little things, really, things like Chris's interest in the tarot and his habit of casting silencing spells around the attic when discussing something demon-related. The little, paranoid quirks that Chris displayed when going after a demon, the crystals spread across the house, the packets of sage hid beneath the windowsills. Certain mannerisms, too, reminded Paige of the other Chris, the way he moved and the way he talked at times. It was unnerving, but Paige figured that it was bound to happen no matter what had changed in the timeline, there were things about him that just couldn't be changed.

Still, she was guilty of what she supposed they all were. She treated him differently than she treated Wyatt. She kept him apart, she held him on something she couldn't quite describe as a pedestal in her mind. In the back of her head, she was always wondering, always thinking. And the sad, pathetic truth of it was – he never really was as much as a nephew to her as Wyatt was, just as she knew was the case with Phoebe – and even Leo and Piper, to an extent.

She didn't know if he knew. No, actually, she was certain he knew. Why else had he cut himself off from them so abruptly after Piper's death? Any normal fifteen-year-old boy would have reached out to his family after suffering a blow like that, but not Chris. He'd retreated completely into himself, barely even sparing them a glance in the days following Piper's death. It'd taken him at least a year to even look anyone in the eye, and even longer to start talking to them whenever he didn't absolutely need to. Leo had written it off as Chris's own brand of coping, but Paige had always thought that somewhere in Chris's subconscious, he realized and embraced his separation from the rest of the family.

She sighed, following Chris through the door and into the stairwell. Chris immediately headed upstairs for his room, and Paige stood there for a moment on the landing, debating heading after him. She could talk to him, maybe, like she used to before Piper died – she remembered lots of nights holed up with Chris in his bedroom, playing Gin Rummy and watching Phoebe's old tapes of soap operas.

Paige stood there, caught in indecision for a split second, before retreating. She instead headed downstairs, hearing Phoebe moving around in the kitchen. He wouldn't want to talk to her anyway.

**xxiv. The Manor**

Dinner was a subdued affair. For once, Chris wasn't the only one who was silent.

Phoebe was preoccupied and distant, her eyes continually darting to her briefcase on the foyer table. Wyatt was scattered as well, staring off into space. Coop and Leo, the resident husbands, were absent, not an uncommon occurrence. Innocents and the lovelorn don't stop for suppertime.

Paige, however, sat clenched and tense, wielding her fork like a weapon. If Chris didn't already know about the Relics's awakening, he'd be nervous at the glances she kept shooting him.

She'd seen him in one of the visions, he knew. Bebe hadn't been too clear about what exactly the Relics had shown, but Chris had quickly solved the problem by orbing into The Dungeon during a guard's coffee break and watched the visions himself.

Frankly, Chris didn't hold much respect for the Relics or their power, recognizing the fact that they were most likely created for Grace Halliwell's sake alone. The few times that they'd shown anything worthwhile since Grace's death had been piddly, useless predictions prodded by some witch with delusions of grandeur. This was different, he knew, since there'd been no prompting from the Relics themselves, but Chris still didn't hold much stock for what he'd witnessed in their depths.

They were obviously warning against Chris and Cole's upcoming confrontation with Klea, not to mention Bianca's recent reawakening of memory. He didn't need a crystal ball to know that a fight was coming. He dealt with the signs of the rising tension every day – why else would he have Klea's trackers on his ass every time he turned around? She was obviously spoiling for a fight, and Chris wasn't one to back down from her challenge.

He shot a look at Paige, catching her looking at him again. God, if he didn't need Paige freaking out, too. He could only imagine what was running through her head.

While Paige was busy memorizing his features, Phoebe kept the conversation all by herself, apparently trying to find cheer when there was none. Wyatt spent the whole time staring alternately at his plate and the ceiling, resisting Henry's efforts to engage him in a conversation. Coop and Leo were absent all together, both working late at their respective workplaces, Leo's being a bit more intense than Coop's, surely (though Leo's absence at dinner was by no means an irregular occurrence).

Halfway through the meal, however, Chris dropped his fork and stiffened in his seat. Bianca was calling him.

"_Chris!"_ She sounded frantic, and instinctively he knew she was crying. _"Chris, I need you – oh God…"_

Alarmed, he sprung out of his seat, halfway to the door before remembering his entire family was in the room. He turned back around, cutting off Phoebe's concerned inquiry before it came. "Charge," he said quickly. "Gotta go now."

"Do you need help? Wyatt should go with you – "

"No," he snapped. "I gotta go _now_, Phoebe." He orbed out without another word, without a second glance.

**xxv. Bianca's Apartment**

Bianca paced the length of her room, wiping at her face furiously. How dare she. How _dare_ she!

She sniffled, hearing her mother's voice yelling incoherently from outside her door. A wave of rage washed over her and she grabbed a book from her dresser, hurling it at the wall. "Shut up!" Not the most mature of tactics, but it got the point across; Lynn promptly stopped yelling.

The sound of orbs sounded behind her and she whirled around. Chris materialized before her eyes, looking drawn and worried. He immediately cast a glance around the room, and finding no physical threat, turned his gaze to her. "What's wrong?"

His voice, low and comforting, had her falling forward into his arms without even thinking about doing it. "My mom wants to send me back to Phoenix training," she said, burrowing into his chest. "She says she doesn't want me to lose touch with my roots, and she thinks I'm too close to your family."

She felt him suck in a sharp breath. "Well," he said. "That's not unexpected."

"I never thought she'd do it, though," she said. "She threatened to do it, when she first heard I was dating Wyatt. And when I was upset over you – but I never thought…" she trailed off into a sob. "I don't wanna go back there, Chris, I can't. I _can't_. You don't know what they used to make me do."

"I do know," he said quietly. "And you're not going anywhere."

She broke down in the face of his compassion, granting the tears she'd choked back earlier release. He held her tightly, and the strange warmth that'd been present ever since this whole fucking thing started multiplied and spread throughout her entire body. She calmed down slowly until she was taking deep breaths, clutching at his shirt with shaking hands.

He led her over to the bed. "Sit." She collapsed onto the mattress, feeling Chris sit next to her. "Listen. We'll talk to your mom. If she still says you can't stay, then we take you to St. Louis and you stay in the apartment with Cole. It's untraceable by _everybody_, they can't get to you."

She nodded, feeling panic subside. Yes, she could do that. "Okay."

"Everything's going to be fine. Okay? I promise."

She nodded, clutching at his arms. "Okay. I believe you." She leaned into him and his arms came up around her again, and the last of her fear subsided. It was a wondrous thing, a relationship.

Then, an impossibly loud _bang_ came from outside Bianca's room, and they leapt apart. "What was that?" Chris asked.

"I don't know."

Another loud bang came, this time on Bianca's door, as if someone threw something at the wood. Chris and Bianca leapt to their feet, Chris pushing her behind him protectively. The door rattled in its frame as another assault on it came, and the sickening sound of cracking wood split through the room.

One last attack on the door and it gave way, and Lynn Perry blasted her way into her room.

"Mom, what are you doing?!"

Lynn turned to the young couple, face blank and eyes wide and glowing eerily red, and Bianca realized with a sick twist of her stomach that her mother was being possessed. She drew back her arm and without a word hurled an energy ball at the couple.

Chris tackled Bianca to the ground, barely avoiding the blast of energy. "Mom!" she cried. "Oh, what the _hell_."

Chris cursed, pulling Bianca out of the way of another energy ball. "It's Klea," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Come on."

He threw a wave of telekinesis at Lynn, throwing the older woman back into the wall. Lynn recovered impossibly fast, throwing another energy ball which sailed past Chris's shoulder and caught the window curtains, igniting them in flames. Bianca yelled in surprise, jerking Chris back out of the way before his clothes caught fire.

Chris clenched his jaw and used his telekinesis to throw Lynn bodily, sending her into Bianca's dresser and shattering the mirror above it. He grabbed Bianca's arm, seeing the flames spread from the curtains to the carpet. "We gotta get outta here."

"My mom! I can't leave her here – "

He eyed Lynn, who was on the ground in a pile of shattered glass, moaning. He waved a hand at her, sending her in a flurry of orbs to the street below, and grabbed Bianca's arm, orbing her out of the flaming room without further delay.

They coalesced on the sidewalk below the building, and Bianca stumbled, still unused to orb travel. She looked back up at the building, seeing the flames reflected in the dark window of her apartment. "There goes my home," she muttered. "What the hell was that?"

"Klea," he said. "She can possess people." He was staring across the street, and Bianca followed his gaze, seeing her mother slowly rising from the ground. "Watch out," he said. "She's still controlling her."

"Oh God," Bianca whispered. "Can we get her out?"

"Lynn can," Chris said. "If she's strong enough. If not, then it's Klea's decision."

The street was empty, this particular neighborhood being a pretty quiet one, especially at night. Bianca eyed her mother warily, watching as she stumbled slightly, steadying herself on a parking meter. She looked across the street and, presumably spotting her and Chris, straightened up the rest of the way, raising her hands above her head.

"She's doing a spell." Chris still had a hold of her arm and he dragged her behind him once more. "Damn it – "

"Hold on." A spark of memory ignited in Bianca, and in a flash, she remembered another part of herself that she'd forgotten.

**xxvi. Bianca's Memory**

"_Get back, get back! Damn it, they got the antidote, it's not working!" Will, a team leader for the Resistance, waved wildly at the various fighters sparring with demons in the large field, trying to instigate a retreat. He moved out of the way of a Darklighter's arrow and rounded up the last of his team, orbing back to headquarters._

_Bianca cursed, ducking behind the side of a building to avoid a dark red blast of energy. She motioned to Brooke beside her. "We've got to get to her."_

_Brooke Chase, a Whitelighter who'd elbowed her way into this mission at Chris's request, was kneeling next to her, sporting a large gash on her right cheek. "Will took the rest of the team," she hissed. "Idiot."_

"_Henry told him to retreat if the poison didn't work," Bianca said. "They don't trust me." She risked a glance around the edge of the building. "There are maybe three, four left. I don't think they know we're still here."_

_Brooke eyed her warily. "Maybe we should get outta here, Bianca. Will and the others will think we retreated with them, it'll take them at least an hour to figure out that we didn't go back to Chris's."_

"_No, we can't," Bianca contradicted. "We need to get to her," she said again firmly._

"_Bianca…"_

"_This ends tonight," Bianca said. "I know Chris told you who she really is, and I can't just let it go. I'm the only one who can kill her."_

_Brooke was silent for a moment, then nodded, jerking her chin towards the cluster of demons, congregating on the street. "I'll cover."_

_Bianca nodded. "Thanks."_

_Brooke orbed out without further ado, reappearing again in front of the group. "Hello boys," she called out. "Y'all are looking especially disgusting tonight. You guys ever heard of personal hygiene? It's so hot right now."_

_Bianca snuck another glance, seeing Brooke drawing the lackeys away in the direction of where she was hiding. Without hesitating, she shimmered away, appearing behind the large group and finding exactly who she was looking for._

"_Hello, Mother."_

_Lynn Perry, dressed in formal Phoenix garb, whirled around from watching her bodyguards battle and faced her daughter. "Bianca." Momentary surprise flitted across her face before she settled into an emotionless mask. "I see you've sunk to new lows."_

"_No more than you have." Bianca hurled an energy ball at Lynn, ducking as Lynn almost simultaneously sent one flying back. Bianca kept going into a dive, shimmering to Lynn's unprotected side, conjuring an athame and threw it, aiming for Lynn's throat. Lynn moved, and in a flurry of motion, deflected the deadly blade, sending a bolt of energy which exploded mere inches away from where Bianca stood._

_Lynn laughed cruelly, deflecting another energy ball. "You forget that I know all your movies, youngling. Pathetic as they are."_

_Deep, burning anger erupted in Bianca and she nearly growled in fury. "How could you join him?" she hissed. "How _dare_ you join him?"_

"_How could you not?" Lynn accused. "Look at you, running around, playing hero. Have you no respect, no pride?"_

"_I do have self-respect, Mother," Bianca spat. "Which is exactly why I'm with the Resistance."_

_Lynn shook her head, hate burning in her eyes. "I can't believe my own flesh and blood. What is this? What are you?"_

_Bianca recoiled, sending a blast of deadly energy, howling in rage. "Flesh and blood? Is that what I am? I'm a murderer!"_

"_You're a Phoenix!" Lynn shrieked. "You deny what you are by joining with traitors, by denying your heritage!" Lynn threw relentless energy blasts at her daughter, lighting up the night with color, Lynn's red against Bianca's ice green._

"_I am your daughter!" Bianca raged. "You're supposed to protect me, to raise me, and what did you do?" She pushed at Lynn with a wave of energy, knocking her back into the window of an abandoned storefront. "You ruined me! You brainwashed me to be a – a monster!"_

"_I trained you," Lynn said furiously, rising to her feet. "I made you a champion, and you threw it away, for what? Oh yes." She laughed derisively. "A _man_," she spat with disgust._

_Bianca scoffed. "You know nothing about me, you never did – "_

"_I know you think you're in love," Lynn sneered. "Bianca. How you disappoint me."_

"You_ disappoint _me_, Mother." Bianca hurled an energy ball that clipped Lynn's shoulder, sending her back into the glass again. "Everything you are disgusts me. What you turned me into disgusts me, now that my eyes have opened."_

"_How could you?" Lynn looked at her, eyes cold and hard. "You deny everything I've taught you. Bianca, what you feel now is a myth, an illusion. He will turn on you, I assure you. One day, when something younger and prettier comes along, and you no longer have the novelty appeal you have now – what will happen to you then?" Lynn sneered. "After all, what would a Charmed Son want with a half-demon, old and scarred as you are?"_

_Bianca hardened her resolve against the words. "You underestimate him."_

"_Do I?" Lynn shook her head. "How naïve you've become! Bianca, all men are distrustful. It is their way. One day, he will abandon you, do not doubt it."_

"_You preach about the unworthiness of men, yet you've pledged your life to serve one," Bianca spat. "What's the difference between the younger and the older?"_

"_The older is no man," Lynn swore. "He is more than a man. He's been corrupted and twisted – something I can get behind." Bianca recoiled in disgust. "Join me, daughter. Evil will never leave. It isn't capable of it."_

_Bianca looked at her mother's face, features twisted and coiled in wickedness. "Never," she hissed, and threw her hands out, reaching out with her mind._

_An unseen force gripped Lynn in its clutches, rendering her motionless. Her face registered surprise, then horror, as her skin flushed red, then purple. Her entire body seemed to contract in on itself, bones grinding and twisting in unnatural motion._

_Lynn bowed down on the ground, mouth open on a silent scream. Her body twisted around itself, folding up smaller and smaller until, in a flash of light, Lynn imploded._

_And Bianca collapsed._

_Brooke ran over, hearing the sounds and flew to Bianca's side, eyeing the pile of ashes that had once been Lynn Perry. "Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?"_

_Bianca waved her hand, barely able to do even that through the exhaustion. "M'fine."_

"_What happened to her?"_

"_Karma," Bianca replied. "Damn. I forgot how hard that is."_

"_You have the threefold power?" Brooke asked in disbelief. "Holy shit, Bianca. Holy _fucking shit_ – "_

"_Brooke!" Bianca tugged at Brooke's arm. "You gotta get me to Chris's. Please, I need a potion he makes for me – I can't shimmer – "_

"_Okay. Okay." Brooke swallowed the lump in her throat, and with another last look at the smoking ashes across the street, orbed Bianca the hell outta there._

**xxvii. Outside Bianca's Rapidly Burning Down Apartment**

"Oh God," Bianca murmured. "I know what to do."

Chris turned to her. "What?"

"Have you heard of the threefold power?" Bianca demanded.

Chris's face turned pale. "Did you – when – "

"I have it. Right?" He nodded, jaw tight. "Do you know how to make that potion that I need?"

He nodded again. "Bianca, I don't know how you'll react – this is your first time doing it, technically – we don't even know if you _can_ – "

"I won't do the full thing. You know, the twisty, implody thing. I'll just put the pressure on enough to expel Klea."

Chris cast a frantic look to Lynn, who had her head tilted back, eyes rolled back in her head, muttering. "Can you control it?"

"Yes," Bianca replied, with confidence she didn't feel. She moved in front of him, turning to settle her gaze on Lynn. "Oh, and Chris? Brooke's a Whitelighter?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started."

She smirked, extending her arms and her eyes falling shut.

The threefold power was a rare gift, given only to a few select people in a generation. It was, literally, the power of karma, the ability to inflict a physical manifestation of every good and bad deed that a person had committed – not only in their current lifetime, but all their previous ones. The affect was usually negative, though Bianca had only tried it on people who were decidedly negative in nature.

Bianca felt herself calming, retreating back into a meditative state with ease, a skill that she'd developed over years of practice, both from her aborted Phoenix training when she was younger, and through practice on her own. She cast out her mind, her senses expanding to include the entire, abandoned street.

Time slowed. The first thing she felt was Chris, a solid and steady copper directly behind her. His head had a spicy twang of rebelliousness with an underlying smooth, creamy layer of loyalty and determination. She shivered, tearing herself away from his presence, not wanting to dissect the fact that she _tasted_ rather than _felt_ his mind. So not the time.

She expanded her senses, feeling the steady burning of the apartment above her, the distracting, dirty feels of the minds in the apartments in the buildings on both sides of the street. She was reminded that it wouldn't be long before someone called the fire department, and was momentarily distracted at the thought of someone being hurt in the fire.

She felt a sharp spark of magic from across the street, and turned back to Lynn. Her mother's mind was a twisted, confusing mess of cold, buttery Lynn and bitter, unyielding Klea. Focusing on the hot mass of reddish energy that was controlling her mother's mind, Bianca reached deep inside herself, invoking a power that she knew only from dreamy memory.

It was a power that built up slowly to her, encased in the sluggish, time-stopped state of trance. It rose from the depths of her heart, expanding and filling her entire being, rolling over itself, spilling out of every pore, every expanse of skin, every part of her body, and moving steadily, wherever Bianca guided it.

She focused hard on Klea's mind, instructing the frozen, deadly green of her power, her power of Earth and creation and growth, of family and love and devotion, of sex and hate and desire, the power of fate and magic itself, to wrap its claws around the demon poisoning Lynn's mind.

Klea's mind, sensing something wrong, started to shriek inhumanly, twisting beneath the hands of the threefold. Bianca felt her panic, her fear and confusion, and surged her power once more, expelling Klea with a vicious shove.

She felt Klea retreat, hearing the horrible screams of rage echo in her mind. Satisfied that Klea was firmly out of Lynn, she retreated the power, staggering back as it all reentered her body.

And, hence the catch. The immense power that came rushing back, the power that came so easily, came back with a sickening blow. Bianca was propelled backwards by it, flying back and hitting the cement sidewalk with a thud. It sucked itself back, overwhelming her, stealing her breath and crushing her beneath its weight. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to scream but unable to, pain wracking every nerve ending she had. Time stretched out even longer, the pain making reality itself seem only unimportant.

And then, just as quickly as it came, it was over. Bianca gasped for breath, shaking violently, sweat pouring down her skin. She moaned, cold seeping in and biting at her skin.

"Bianca?" She heard Chris's voice as if from very far away, and she tried to turn her head towards the sound, but found herself unable to move. "Don't, just lie still. You did it, baby, Klea's gone. Your mom's fine."

She tried to muster a smile, or even a feeling of accomplishment, but couldn't find even that. She felt the vestiges of the threefold ebbing and flowing beneath the surface of her skin, and flashes of destiny flashed beneath her eyelids.

She felt its power, its knowledge and legacy. She felt its ancient awareness, she became a part of it. She felt the beauty and the ugliness of it, she felt it sinking into her heart.

"Bianca?" She heard the concern in his voice, and part of her recognized that she was weeping.

"I'm okay," she managed to say. "Chris," her voice broke, overwhelmed.

"I know, I know. I'm here."

Overcome with emotion, she felt his arms close around her and finally succumbed to exhaustion, heading head first down into darkness.

* * *

Whew. I'm floored that there's still interest in this. Hopefully this super-duper-extra-long update will be thanks enough. 


	7. Feel Like Dead Ends

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**Chapter Seven: Feel Like Dead Ends**

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**xxviii. the Manor.**

"This is a bad idea." Lynn Perry paced the length of the attic, a panicked, sour expression on her face. "We should be taking her back to Albany, so she can be healed by the clan elders."

Chris, just about fed up with the stubborn Phoenix, shot her a glare laced with venom. "The potion will be ready in ten minutes. Once she takes that, she'll be fine."

"How do you know?" Lynn demanded. "She's my daughter. I'm responsible for her, not you."

"Oh you are?" Chris shot back. "You only have her best interests in mind, yeah? That's why you're all set to send her back to Phoenix training?"

"She is a Phoenix!" Lynn said heatedly. "It's her heritage, her birthright. I never should have taken her away from New York – surely you know something about destiny, Charmed Son?"

"I know plenty," he said darkly. "And you, Phoenix, are as blind as you are foolish. Bianca was meant to come to San Francisco, just as much as she was never meant to be an assassin."

Lynn snorted derisively. "You're a boy," she spat. "Nothing but a presumptuous, hormone-driven boy."

Chris shook his head, turning back and dabbing at Bianca's forehead with a damp washcloth. "I'm more sane than you are right now, Phoenix."

"Why are you calling me that?" Lynn asked, turning on her heel. "Why do you call me 'Phoenix'?"

"It's what you are," Chris said calmly. He rose from his crouched position at Bianca's side, who was lying unconscious on the couch in the corner of the attic. "Would you prefer me calling you Lynn?"

"Ms. Perry would work," she snapped. "And a little respect, too. She's my daughter," she repeated. "I could take her away from here. I should. She and I should be in Albany right now."

"I'd like to see you try to take her away from here," Chris snapped. "And we both know that this is where she needs to be. Your fear will do nothing but hurt Bianca in the end, _Phoenix_."

Lynn shook her head, momentarily speechless. She collapsed onto a chair shakily. "Why are we here?" she asked, more calmly. "This is not the place for her, the Halliwell manor…"

"Leo is not here," Chris said firmly. "Paige and Phoebe are at work, and Wyatt is with Jacqui – "

"Jacqui?" Lynn said sharply.

"As soon as the potion is finished, she'll be fine," Chris said firmly, talking over the older witch. "And then I'll take you both to a safe place, where Klea can't find you."

"You'll be taking us?" Lynn asked, bristling. "Boy – "

"I am no boy," Chris said sharply. "Snap out of it. You take her to Albany, and Klea will find you both within the hour. We have maybe the rest of the night before she recovers from Bianca's attack, but we don't know how many healers she has working with her. We have to move fast. As soon as the potion's done, I'm taking you both to Cole."

The reminder of Bianca's attack seemed to deflate Lynn's defense, and she sank back into the chair. "What…was that? You seemed to know."

"The threefold power," Chris said quietly, turning back to check on Bianca once more. She was still, breathing regularly, seemingly asleep. But Chris's trained eyes saw the sickly pallor of her skin, the reddish tinge at the base of her throat that signified her weakness.

He turned back to the potion bubbling on the table, checking its progress. Satisfied that it had boiled long enough, he grabbed a handful of ground herbs and threw them in, prompting a small explosion of smoke from the cauldron. Waving away the smoke, he peered down at the liquid, feeling a stab of triumph at the icy green color. This was one potion that he would never forget how to mix.

He quickly grabbed the nearest container – a small mixing cup – and filled it halfway, bringing it over to Bianca's side. He brushed the hair away from Bianca's neck, slipping one hand beneath her head and propping it up. "Drink," he said softly, infusing his voice with magic. "Drink, Bianca."

Bianca opened her mouth obediently in the face of his magical persuasion, reaching forward blindly. He brought the cup to her lips and helped her gulp most of the potion, pulling back when there were but a few drops left in the cup. He let Bianca's head fall back to the couch pillow and took the remainder of the potion, pouring it carefully at the base of her throat, where the skin was flushed unnaturally red. A soft hissing sound came as the liquid came into contact with the magically-inflamed skin, and Chris sighed in relief as Bianca's throat returned to its normal skin color.

"What…" Lynn whispered, having watched the whole process from over Chris's shoulder.

"The potion restores her strength and suppresses certain parts of her magic," Chris explained quietly. "Bianca's power center is here." He laid a hand softly at Bianca's throat, the exact spot where her neck met her chest. "Everyone's power center is different. This potion is custom made for Bianca – she drinks it to clear her body, but it affects her magic directly, so she has to absorb it through her power center as well."

"Power center," Lynn murmured. "I've never heard of that before. Is that like…totems?"

"Kind of." Chris kept an eye on Bianca, slowly calming his worry as her skin started to flush back into a healthy pink, her breathing becoming stronger. "Every witch – every strong witch, anyway – has a place where their power is focused and channeled through. Halliwell witches' centers are usually their hands – my mother could use her freezing and explosive powers by gesturing with her hands."

Lynn nodded. "Paige gestures with her hands for orbing, too – "

"Yes. And Wyatt uses his hands for his powers, too." Chris stood, waving the potion materials away with a wave of his hand. "I use my hands as well, and my voice. But centers can change, too – my aunt Prue, for instance, used to control her telekinesis through her eyes, but gradually started to control it through her hands."

Lynn nodded. "Mine would be my hands, too, then," she said. "But Bianca – her throat?"

"Bianca is…unusual," Chris said carefully. He didn't want to reveal too much, but – it was her mother, after all. "Her power is unusual. It's connected to her blood – therefore, she channels it through her throat, her pulse point."

"But…her powers are the same as mine. Phoenix powers – shimmering, fireballs."

"Those are powers she inherited from you," Chris said. "Bianca did have a father, you know. A very magical one. And she also has powers all her own, powers she's just beginning to explore and understand."

Lynn shook her head, looking weary and overwhelmed. "You know who her father is?"

"Yes."

She looked at him sharply, helplessly. "How?"

"I can't tell you that." Chris laid a hand on Bianca's forehead, smoothing the hair down tenderly. "I can tell you that I have Bianca's best interests in mind here…Ms. Perry."

Lynn cast a critical eye to Chris's hands on her daughter, how careful and gentle they were. She nodded slowly, her heart slowly splintering in two. "Call me Lynn," she choked through a tight throat.

He nodded and they sat in silence, watching the girl that meant so much to both of them.

After a moment, Lynn broke the silence once more. "So this safe place," she started. "Where is it?"

Chris smiled grimly. "It's not where that'll be the issue," he said, "it's who."

**xxix. Up There**

"Let! Me! In!" Brooke Chase punctuated each word with a pound of her fist, furiously hitting the large, ivory gates that separated the Elder's council chamber from the Whitelighters' common area. "Leo Wyatt, you get your cowardly ass out here and talk to me, damn it!" She kicked the solid white door in frustration, ignoring the flurry of disapproved whispers from her fellow Whitelighters, gathered in a crowd to watch the small girl's tantrum. "I'm his Whitelighter, and you're his FATHER. This is his support system? This is who he has in his corner?"

"You are insolent and disrespectful, child," snapped an elder Whitelighter. "Stop this foolishness – "

Brooke waved a hand, pushing the crowd back with a wave of telekinesis. "My charge is in trouble – _Chris Halliwell_ is in trouble! I felt his pain, I can feel it now – and his own father won't listen to me!"

Murmurs from the crowd grew louder until the Whitelighter who'd addressed Brooke before silenced them with a wave of his hand. "Hush. Child, you are the Prophesized's guardian?"

Tears tearing at the corner of her eyes, Brooke nodded, still pounding at the immovable gate in frustration. "He's my friend," she said fiercely. "My charge and my friend, and…there's something wrong!" She kicked at the gate. "And Leo the cowardly lion won't even tell me what's going on, and I can't sense him!"

The elder Whitelighter laid a hand on Brooke's shoulder. "Calm yourself."

Brooke tore away from the older man, wiping at her face. "This is bullshit," she said angrily.

"He cannot help, you know that."

"Why not?" Brooke demanded. "Because of some stupid Prophecy that may or may not come true?" She threw up her hands in frustration. "How do we even know it's Chris that it's about? It refers to a Charmed Son – there are two of them, you know. And wouldn't you think that it'd be Wyatt who'd be in more danger of something like this?"

The Whitelighter slid his hands into his robes, looking down at her kindly. "Things change. The mere fact that Christopher was the one to travel through time to prevent his brother's downfall almost ensures his."

"How is that fair?" Brooke demanded. "How does that even make _sense?_"

"It doesn't, I'm afraid." He raised one eyebrow. "If you are worried about him, I will help you. But Leo cannot interfere. It is too dangerous."

"What, he's afraid he'll get his halo dirty?"

"Dangerous for _Chris_, my dear." He shook his head. "You'll understand one day. I assure you that this pains Leo just as much as it pains you."

Brooke glared at the immovable door. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"You say you cannot sense him?"

Brooke huffed. "No. He completely disappeared off my radar as of twenty minutes ago. But before that, I could feel his feelings – I never could, before."

"He blocks your senses?"

"He took an empath-blocking potion – I don't know where he got it, it was after Piper's death – Phoebe's an empath, remember?" She frowned. "Sometimes, I can feel snippets – when he's upset. Today, I felt…" she shuddered. "So much. Something's up. Something big. I could feel…fear, pain, regret, love, worry…every emotion on the scale, practically."

"His resolve weakens in intense situations." The Whitelighter shook his head, thinking. "If he's disappeared, I doubt that it's unintentional."

Brooke bit her lip. "He doesn't know I'm a Whitelighter. Why would he block himself?"

"Are you sure he doesn't know?" Brooke started to nod, but stopped, hesitating unsurely. "It may not be just you he's hiding from."

"Either way, I still have no way of finding him," Brooke argued.

"Stop thinking of him as a witch and think of him as a person. Where would he go to hide? Somewhere he regards as safe?"

Brooke crossed her arms. "Not the Manor," she said, snorting. "He'd go somewhere…" she huffed. "I don't know. But I think I know someone who does."

**xxx. Cole's Apartment**

Bianca always jerked awake, no matter where she was. It was an old habit from Phoenix training – the surprise training sessions didn't exactly lend for comfortable sleep. But this time as she jolted awake there were no aunts and cousins throwing fireballs. Only Chris and…well, her mother.

"Bianca! You're awake!"

Bianca jerked backwards, eyeing Lynn suspiciously. She looked over at Chris, who was watching her with a quiet smirk. "She's not still evil, is she?"

"Uh, no."

Lynn hugged her, kissing the side of her face. "God, I was so worried."

"Uch." Bianca swallowed. "Mom – oxygen."

"Sorry." Lynn pulled back and eyed her daughter anxiously. "How do you feel?"

"A little freaked out," Bianca said. "A little pissed off. I'm _not_ going back to Albany, Mom," she said firmly. "You can't make me."

Lynn fell quiet, an uncomfortable look on her face. "Bianca…"

"Mom, I'm not going. I'm _not._"

"We'll…" Lynn shot an uneasy look at Chris. "We'll talk about it later."

"Ugh. Fine. Please get off me." Lynn sighed and backed off the bed, letting Bianca sit up fully, swinging her legs around so she was sitting normally on the couch. "What happened?"

"Well, you kicked threefold ass, and then you collapsed." Chris sat next to her. "How do you feel?"

"Cold," she replied. She looked down at her hands, realizing that they were shaking. "Does this always happen?"

"Yeah." He grabbed a blanket laying over the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You'll have the chills for a few hours, nothing major."

"How do you know?" Lynn asked – or demanded, really. "You've never used this – this power before, have you Bianca?"

"Um, not technically," she replied. "Chris knows, Mom, I trust him. You can too." She shivered, bringing the blanket around her shoulders tighter. "So Klea's gone?"

"For now," Chris said. "You hit her pretty hard, but she's got pretty much every type of demon the Underworld has available around her. She won't stay down for long."

"Klea," Lynn said flatly.

"Does she – "

"I explained things," Chris said dryly.

"Why are we at Cole's?" Bianca asked.

"You know who Cole is?" Lynn asked sharply.

"_You_ know who Cole is?"

Chris cut in. "This is the safest place for us right now, until we can figure out what Klea wants."

"I would assume she wants us dead," Bianca said wryly. "Considering how she possessed my mom so she could attack us, and everything."

"She's up to something. She didn't know I'd be there," Chris reminded her.

"I don't know, Chris, Mom and I were fighting for at least two hours before Klea showed up." Bianca gestured to Lynn, who was watching their conversation closely. "She could've possessed her at any time, but she chose the moment right after I called you to do it. I think she was waiting for both of us to be together."

"All the more reason to stay here until Cole wakes up."

Bianca glanced at the bedroom door, closed tightly as always. "He's still unconscious? How long do these low periods last?"

"At least a week. He should be coming out of it tonight – tomorrow at least."

"What's wrong with him?" Lynn asked quietly, shooting a look at the door.

"We don't know." Chris sighed heavily. "Klea cursed him. It weakened him enough that I was able to summon him – but we don't know how to cure it, or even what it is, really. Cole never remembers anything when he wakes."

"So what do we do?" Bianca asked.

"We stay here," Chris said. "We need Cole. We're safe here – "

"How do you know?" Lynn asked.

"This apartment is untraceable, trust me."

"What about your family?" Bianca asked. "You can't just not go home."

"They can freak now, I can explain later." Chris wrapped his arm around her shoulder, seeing her shaking violently. "Everything's going be fine."

Lynn eyed the young couple together on the couch warily, her eyes inexplicably drawn back to the bedroom door, her protests all dying on her lips.

**xxxi. The Manor**

Brooke crossed her arms, looking around. "Huh."

"Where are they?"

The Whitelighter who'd calmed her down looked amazingly out of place in the homey living room of the Halliwell home, his brilliant robes clashing with the neutral tones of the furniture and draperies. "I dunno." She frowned, moving across the room the peer into the Conservatory. "They're not upstairs. I'm not sensing anyone – not even in the surrounding houses."

"They couldn't _all_ be gone, could they?" he asked.

She snorted. "A family as huge as this? Chances are very low that they all happen to be running errands at the same time."

"So what happened?"

"I don't know." Brooke worried her bottom lip. "Chris disappears and now his family, too? This is too big of a coincidence. If coincidences even existed, that is."

"We need to find the Halliwells," he said firmly.

"Who needs to?"

Brooke whirled around, face falling upon seeing the visitor. "Oh, Wyatt. It's just you."

Wyatt entered the room, presumably having just orbed in. He was wearing his jacket, and his hair was dusted with moisture from the rain falling on the windows. "Brooke…" he trailed off, seeing the Whitelighter behind her. "Kevin! What are you doing here?"

"Kevin?" Brooke repeated incredulously. "Your name is _Kevin_?"

"Yes." He looked at her, nonplussed. "So?"

She snorted. "Nothing, it just seems so…normal."

"I'm not an alien, Ms. Chase."

Wyatt frowned. "Wait, wait. What's going on? Brooke, you know who this is?"

Brooke huffed impatiently. "I'm a Whitelighter, okay?"

"_What_?!"

"Look, we don't have time for this. Chris is missing, possibly in trouble, and now your family's gone. We have to figure out what's going on, fast."

"Wait, wait – slow down. Chris is missing?"

"Uh, yes. And your family. Am I speaking too fast?" Something behind Wyatt caught Brooke's eye, and she frowned. "Is there someone else here?"

"No," Wyatt said quickly.

Brooke narrowed her eyes, shoving past him into the foyer, finding a sheepish Jacqui hovering by the end table. "Uch, you scum."

"Hey – "

"Whatever, I don't care. You stay here with her and make sure she doesn't get killed. _I'll_ find Chris."

"No, wait." Wyatt grabbed her arm. "He's my brother."

"Really? No one in this family seems to be acting like it," she hissed. Wyatt frowned and Brooke shook off his arm. "Why don't you make yourself useful and look in the Book of Shadows for something we can use. _Kevin_ and I – " she shot a look at the Whitelighter, who was standing slightly away from the arguing teens, looking amused. "…will look for Chris."

"What about the rest of my family?" Wyatt frowned, the weight of the situation seeming to sink in.

"Chris is the key, wherever he is," Brooke said, mostly to herself. "If we find him, we find out what's going on."

**xxxii. The Underworld.**

The expensive urn hit the stone wall, shattering on impact. Klea's scream of rage rattled the dark cavern, her guards taking a step back in the face of her anger.

Her thin eyes narrowed in disgust as she watched the two Whitelighters orb away from the Manor, the water of her scrying pool rippling as the scene ended. "We missed the son," she said quietly. "Who missed the son?"

One demon stepped forward, bowing low to the ground. "He was away from the house, my lady," he said. "I apologize. You told us to ignore the son – "

"The younger," she hissed. "I told you to ignore the _younger_ son Which would imply that there are _more than one,_ would it not?"

"I apologize," he repeated. "My companions and I can get to the Twice Blessed, we can still take him here."

"The Whitelighters have discovered their absence, you idiot! If he disappears now, they may very well trace him to me!" She waved her hand, watching as the demon exploded into flames. "Everyone get out of my sight. Now!"

She whirled away, waiting until all her guards have exited the chamber before turning to the corner of her chambers, a deadly smile on her face.

"Well, well. Seems you're becoming more trouble than I thought."

Paige glared at her from between the cage bars. "I don't know who you think you are, but – "

"I am Klea, and you will be _silent,"_ she said, smirking. "Unless you want to end up like everyone else."

Paige looked over at her family – and her sister's family – all unconscious in separate cages in the long, dank cavern. "I will kill you," Paige vowed. "Make no mistake."

Klea smirked. "I'm counting on it."

00

If you didn't catch it, Kevin is the boy from 5.05 Witches in Tights – the boy whose drawings came to life, who became an Elder in the end? I always wondered what had happened to him when the Elders were killed in the beginning of season six, so I brought him back. We'll see him more.

As for questions…Chris's powers are _kind _of a plot point. Let's just say he's got some tricks up his sleeve – and they don't really come from where you might think. That sounded sufficiently mysterious, right?

I'm keeping Bianca and Chris the same ages as in canon – as in, Bianca being three years older. Chris, right now, is sixteen-ish, making Bianca nineteen. However, Bianca got a late start on the whole school thing, what with Phoenix training. I'll elaborate on this soon.

I think that's it. I'll be going off to college in a couple weeks, so I'm not sure about updating – but I've definitely found my second wind on this story. Thanks for reviewing. ;)


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